MARIAN  KEITH  J 


THE  SILVER  MAPLE 


THE 

SILVER  MAPLE 

A  Story  of  Upper  Canada 


BY 


MARIAN  KEITH 

AUTHOR  OF  "TREASURE  VALLEY,"  .'"LIZBETH 
OF  THE  DALE,"  ETC. 


CINCINNATI:  JENNINGS  &  GRAHAM 
NEW    YORK:     EATON    &     MAINS 


Copyright,  1906,  by 
FLEMING  H.   REVELL  COMPANY 


CONTENTS 


I.  IN  THE  VALLEY  OF  SHADOWS 9 

II.  A  NEW  NAME 18 

III.  WINNING  His  SPURS        41 

IV.  "CAPE  CANADA" 58 

V.  THE  REFORMATION      ........  83 

VI.  AN  IGNOMINIOUS  TASK 106 

VII.  THE  AVENGING  OF  GLENCOE 138 

VIII.  THE  END  OF  THE  FEUD 167 

IX.  RALPH  STANWELL  AGAIN 185 

X.  IN  THE  REALMS  OF    GOLD 207 

XL       THE  WEAVER'S  REWARD 222 

XII.  A  WELL-MEANT  PLOT 252 

XIII.  THE  VOICE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS      .     .           .  280 

XIV.  THE  VOVAGEURS 306 

XV.  THE  SECRET  OF  THE  NILE 320 

XVI.  RE-VOYAGE         335 

XVII.  THE  PROMISED  LAND  347 


2136572 


THE  SILVER  MAPLE 


IN    THE    VALLEY    OF    SHADOWS 

Like   the    great    rest    that   cometh    after   pain, 
The  calm  that  follows  storm,  the  great  surcease, 

This  folding  slumber  comforts  wood  and  plain 
In  one  white  mantling  peace. 

— WILLIAM  WILFRED  CAMPBELL. 

THE  storm  was  over,  the  snow  had  ceased 
falling,  and  under  its  muffling  mantle,  white 
and  spent  with  the  day's  struggle,  lay  the 
great  swamp  of  the  Oro.  It  seemed  to  hold  in  its 
motionless  bosom  the  very  spirit  of  silence  and  death. 
The  delicately  traced  pattern  of  a  rabbit  or  weasel 
track,  and  a  narrow  human  pathway  that  wound 
tortuously  into  the  sepulchral  depths,  were  the  only 
signs  of  life  in  all  the  white  stillness.  Away  down 
the  dim,  cathedral-like  aisles,  that  fainted  into  softest 
grey  in  the  distance,  the  crackling  of  an  overburdened 
twig  rang  startlingly  clear  in  the  awesome  hush.  The 
tall  firs  and  pines  swept  the  white  earth  with  their 
snow-laden  branches,  the  drooping  limbs  looking  like 
throngs  of  cowled  heads,  bent  to  worship  in  the 

9 


10  THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

sacred  stillness  of  a  vast  temple.  For  the  forest  was, 
indeed,  a  place  in  which  to  wonder  and  to  pray,  a 
place  all  white  and  holy,  filled  with  the  mystery  and 
awe  of  death. 

But  suddenly  into  this  softly  curtained  sanctuary 
came  a  profaning  sound;  a  clear,  joyous  shout  rang 
through  the  sacred  aisles ;  and,  down  the  narrow 
pathway,  leaping  over  fallen  logs,  whipping  aside 
the  laden  branches  and  scattering  their  snow-crowns 
in  a  whirling  mist  about  him,  destroying,  in  his  ruth- 
less progress,  both  the  sanctity  and  the  beauty  of  the 
place,  came  a  human  figure,  a  little  figure,  straight 
and  sturdy,  and  as  lithe  and  active  as  any  other  wild, 
forest-creature.  His  small,  red-mittened  hands,  the 
scarlet  woollen  scarf  about  his  neck,  and  his  rosy 
cheeks  made  a  bold  dash  of  colour  in  the  sombre  gloom, 
as  his  abounding  life  disturbed  the  winter  death-sleep. 

On  he  came,  leaping  from  log  to  log  like  a  hare, 
and  setting  the  stately  forest  arches  ringing  to  a 
rollicking  Scottish  song,  tuneful  and  incongruous, — 

"WT  a  hundred  pipers  an'  a',  an'  a', 
Wi'  a  hundred  pipers  an'  a',  an'  a', 
We'll  up  an  gie  them  a  blaw,  a  blaw! 
Wi'  a  hundred  pipers  an'  a',  an'  a'  I " 

But  as  he  plunged  down  the  hill  into  the  grey 
depths  he  suddenly  ceased  singing.  The  awe  of  the 


THE     VALLEY     OF     SHADOWS     11 

place  touched  his  child's  spirit.  Reared  in  the  forest 
though  he  had  been,  he  suddenly  felt  strangely  un- 
familiar with  his  surroundings.  He  had  never  before 
experienced  anything  like  fear  in  the  woods.  The 
rigours  of  seven  Canadian  winters  had  bred  a  hardy 
spirit  in  this  little  backwoodsman,  and  besides  what 
was  there  to  dread  in  the  forest?  It  had  been  his 
playground  ever  since  he  was  first  able  to  steal  away 
from  Granny  and  toddle  off  to  "  the  bush  "  to  gather 
blue  flags  and  poke  up  the  goggle-eyed  frogs  from 
their  fragrant  musk-pools.  But  here  was  something 
unfamiliar;  a  strange  uncanny  place  the  swamp 
seemed  to-day;  and,  being  Nature's  intimate,  he  fell 
into  sudden  sympathy  with  her  awe-stricken  mood. 

He  sped  silently  forward,  glancing  fearfully  down 
the  dim,  shadowy  aisles,  so  ghostly,  so  mysterious, 
dreading  he  knew  not  what. 

"  Eh,  eh,  it  will  be  a  fearsome  place,"  he  whispered. 
"  It's  jist, — eh,  it  must  be  the  *  valley  of  the 
shadow  ' !  "  And  then  he  suddenly  remembered  the 
psalm  that  Granny  had  taught  him  as  soon  as  he 
could  speak, — 

"Yea,  though  I  walk  through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of 

death, 
I  will  fear  no  evil,  for  Thou  art  with  me." 

He  whispered  it  over  from  beginning  to  end,  not 


12  THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

because  he  comprehended,  its  meaning  as  applied  to 
his  case,  but  because  it  was  associated  with  Granny 
and  all  things  good,  and,  therefore,  gave  him  a  sense 
of  comfort.  For  he  felt  as  though  he  were  home  by 
the  fireside,  and  she  was  smoothing  his  curls  and 
singing  those  words,  as  she  so  often  did  when  he 
was  falling  asleep. 

"And  I  will  dwell  in  the  house  of  the  Lord  forever." 

As  he  whispered  the  last  line  he  reached  the  top  of 
the  hill  and  suddenly  emerged  from  the  valley  of 
shadows  and  fears  into  the  light  of  day.  Just 
ahead  lay  a  clearing,  with  the  rose-coloured  sunset 
flooding  its  white  expanse  and  glowing  between  the 
dark  tree-stems.  He  ran  forward  with  joyful  relief 
and  leaped  out  into  an  open  world  of  beauty,  all 
ablaze  in  the  dazzling  rays  of  the  setting  sun.  Here 
was  light  and  safety — yes,  and  friends ! 

He  had  emerged  upon  the  public  highway,  known 
in  that  part  of  the  country  as  the  "  Scotch  Line," 
and  there,  coming  swiftly  down  the  glittering  hill, 
was  a  low,  rough  sleigh,  drawn  by  a  pair  of  bell- 
less  horses.  The  driver  was  an  elderly  man,  tall, 
straight,  and  fierce-looking,  with  a  fine,  noble  head 
and  a  long,  sweeping,  grey  beard,  which  gave  him  a 
patriarchal  appearance.  By  his  side  sat  a  young 


THE     VALLEY     OF     SHADOWS     13 

man,  almost  his  exact  counterpart  in  face  and  figure, 
but  lacking  the  stately  dignity  of  years.  Behind, 
on  the  edge  of  the  sleigh,  swinging  their  feet  in  the 
snow,  sat  two  more  youths,  both  showing  in  face  and 
figure  unmistakable  signs  of  close  relationship  to 
the  elderly  man  on  the  front  seat. 

As  the  little  figure  came  bounding  out  from  the 
forest  the  whole  quartette  broke  into  a  welcoming 
shout.  With  an  answering  whoop  the  boy  darted 
forward  and  pitched  himself  upon  the  sleigh. 

"Horo,  Scotty!"  "Woohoo!"  "How's  our  big 
college-student  ?  " 

He  was  caught  up  and  flung  from  one  to  another 
like  a  bundle  of  hay,  until  he  landed,  laughing  and 
breathless,  in  the  arms  of  the  driver.  Big  Malcolm 
MacDonald  stood  the  boy  up  between  his  knees,  his 
deep  eyes  shining  with  pride. 

"  Hey,  hey !  "  he  cried.  "  And  how's  our  big  man 
that  will  be  going  to  school  ?  " 

The  boy's  dark  eyes  were  blazing  with  excitement. 

"Oh,  Grandad,  it  would  jist  be  fine!  It's  jist 
grand!  An'  me  an'  Big  Sandy's  Archie  and  Peter 
Jimmie  is  all  readin'  in  one  place,  an'  the  master  says 
I  can  read  jist  fine,  whatever!" 

"  Didn't  you  get  a  lickin'  ?  "  demanded  a  voice 
from  the  rear  of  the  sleigh. 


14  THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

The  bright  face  suddenly  fell,  one  could  never 
aspire  to  be  a  hero  until  one  had  braved  the  master's 
tawse. 

"  No,"  was  the  reluctant  admission.  "  The  mas- 
ter would  be  jist  fearsome  to  the  big  lads,  but  he 
would  not  be  saying  anything  to  me.  But,"  he 
added,  brightening,  "  I  would  be  having  a  fight !  " 

"  Horo ! "  the  three  young  men  laughed  delight- 
edly. "  That  will  be  a  fine  start,  jist  keep  it  up! " 
cried  the  youth  on  the  front  seat. 

"  Hoots,  whist  ye,  Callum ! "  cried  the  elder  man, 
reprovingly,  while  his  dancing  eyes  contradicted  his 
tongue.  "  What  will  his  Granny  be  sayin'  to  such 
goin's  on,  an'  the  first  day  at  school,  too !  " 

"  And  who  would  you  be  fightin',  Scotty  ?  "  asked 
Uncle  Rory,  leaning  eagerly  forward. 

"  Danny  Murphy ! "  he  announced  truculently, 
"  an'  I  would  be  lickin'  him  good,  too !  " 

There  was  a  chorus  of  joyous  approval. 

"Good  for  you!"  shouted  Callum;  "jist  you 
pitch  into  any  o'  yon  Irish  crew  every  time  you  get  a 
chance ! " 

"  Be  quate,  will  ye,  Callum ! "  cried  his  father 
more  sternly.  "  The  lad  will  be  jist  like  yerself,  too 
ready  with  his  fists,  whatever.  A  brave  man  will 
never  be  a  boaster,  Scotty,  man." 


THE     VALLEY     OF     SHADOWS     15 

The  would-be  hero's  head  drooped;  he  looked 
slightly  abashed. 

"  What  would  Danny  be  doin'  to  you?  "  inquired 
Callum. 

At  the  question,  the  proud  little  head  came  up 
swiftly. 

"  He  said — he  said !  "  cried  its  owner,  stammer- 
ing in  his  wrath,  "  he  said  I  would  be  an  English- 
man! " 

Small  comfort  he  received,  for  the  report  of  this 
deadly  insult  produced  yells  of  laughter. 

"  Yon  was  a  black-hearted  Irish  trick,  an'  jist  like 
one  o'  Pat  Murphy's  tribe,  whatever,"  said  Callum, 
with  a  sudden  affectation  of  solemnity  that  some- 
what appeased  the  child's  rising  indignation. 

"  An'  you  would  be  pitchin'  into  him  good  for  his 
lies,  wouldn't  you?  "  inquired  Rory,  encouragingly. 

The  boy  looked  up  shyly  at  his  grandfather.  "  A 
wee  bit,"  he  admitted  modestly. 

The  father  glanced  significantly  at  his  eldest  son. 
"  School  will  be  the  place  to  learn  many  things,"  he 
said  in  a  low  tone.  The  young  man  laughed  easily. 
"  He's  bound  to  be  finding  it  out  some  time,  anyway," 
he  answered,  but  not  so  low  that  the  boy's  quick  ears 
could  not  catch  the  words.  He  looked  up  intently 
into  the  faces  of  the  two  men,  a  startled  expression  in 


16  THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

his  big  eyes.  Then  he  suddenly  scrambled  out  from 
between  them,  and  went  behind  to  where  Hamish,  his 
youngest  uncle,  sat.  He  felt  vaguely  that  he  was 
approaching  some  strange,  unforeseen  trouble,  and 
Hamish  was  always  sympathetic. 

The  sleigh  had  been  moving  swiftly  through  long, 
narrow  forest  aisles,  and  now  it  suddenly  turned  into 
view  of  a  small  farm,  a  "  clearing,"  plentifully  be- 
sprinkled with  snow-crowned  stumps  and  surrounded 
by  the  still  unconquered  forest,  dark  and  menacing, 
but  sullenly  and  slowly  retreating. 

Here  was  a  home,  nevertheless ;  a  home  wrested  by 
heroic  struggles  from  the  wilderness.  In  the  centre, 
on  the  face  of  a  little  sloping  hill,  stood  the  citadel 
of  this  newly-conquered  territory, — a  farmhouse 
and  out-buildings. 

They  were  all  rough  log  structures,  but  the  dwell- 
ing house  had  about  it  the  unmistakable  atmosphere 
of  a  home.  Around  it,  even  under  the  snowdrifts, 
were  vague  signs  of  a  garden;  from  the  low,  wide 
chimney  poured  forth  a  blue  column  of  smoke;  and 
at  one  of  the  windows  a  candle  twinkled  cheerfully ; 
both  speaking  of  warmth  and  welcome  within,  very 
grateful  in  the  chill,  winter  dusk.  And  at  the  side 
of  the  house,  on  a  small  knoll,  spreading  its  bare 
branches  over  the  roof  as  though  to  shield  the  home 


THE     VALLEY     OF     SHADOWS     17 

from  the  biting  blasts,  grew  a  gigantic  silver  maple, 
a  welcome  shelter  alike  in  summer  and  winter. 

As  the  sleigh  swept  past  the  house  on  its  way  to 
the  barn,  Big  Malcolm  pushed  the  boy  gently  for- 
ward. "  Run  away  in,  Scotty,  man,"  he  said ;  "  see, 
Granny  will  be  watchin'  for  you  at  the  window." 

Scotty  hesitated ;  he  wanted  to  go  on  to  the  stable, 
and  there  give  Rory  and  Hamish  a  more  detailed 
account  of  his  glorious  battle  of  the  morning.  But 
Granny  was  expecting  him,  and  he  must  not  dis- 
appoint her;  even  Callum  dared  not  do  that,  and 
Callum  dared  almost  anything  else.  So  the  boy 
leaped  down  and  ran  swiftly  up  the  rough  little  path- 
way. At  his  approach  the  old,  weather-beaten  door 
flew  open ;  and  he  sprang  into  a  pair  of  outstretched 
arms. 


n 

A    NEW    NAME 

Outside,  the  ghostly  rampikes, 
Those  armies  of  the  moon, 
Stood  while  the  ranks  of  stars  drew  on 
To  that  more  spacious  noon, — 

While  over  them  in  silence 
Waved  on  the  dusk  afar 
The  gold  flags  of  the  Northern  light 
Streaming   with   ancient  war. 

— BLISS    CARMAN. 

SCOTTY  lay  stretched  before  the  wide  fire- 
place, his  tousled,  curly  head  upon  his  small, 
brown  hand,  his  eyes  fastened  dreamily  upon 
the  glowing  mass  of  coals.  He  was  waiting  anxiously 
for  the  rest  of  the  family  to  join  him.  Supper  was 
over;  and  just  as  soon  as  his  grandfather  and  "the 
boys  "  returned  from  the  barn  he  was  going  to  re- 
count, for  the  fourth  time,  the  great  events  of  this, 
his  first  day  at  school.  He  felt  like  a  hero  just  re- 
turned from  an  overwhelming  victory.  The  whole 
family  seemed  conscious  of  his  added  importance. 
Even  Bruce,  his  collie  dog,  sat  close  beside  him,  pok- 

18 


ANEWNAME  19 

ing  him  occasionally  with  his  nose,  that  he  might  have 
a  share  in  his  master's  glory.  And  as  for  Granny, 
she  stopped  every  few  moments  in  her  work  of  strain- 
ing and  putting  away  the  milk  to  exclaim : 

"  Eh,  eh,  but  it's  Granny  would  be  the  lonesome 
old  body  this  day  without  her  boy !  " 

The  little  candle  on  the  bare,  pine  table  shed  only 
a  small  ring  of  light,  and  the  goblin  shadows  danced 
away  from  the  wide  hearth  into  the  corners  of  the 
room.  In  the  darkest  one  stood  an  old  four-post  bed 
with  a  billowy  feather  mattress,  covered  by  a  tartan 
quilt.  Beside  it  hung  a  quantity  of  rough  coats  and 
caps,  and  beneath  them  stood  the  "  boot- jack,"  an  in- 
strument for  drawing  off  the  long,  high-topped  boots, 
and  one  Scotty  yearned  to  be  big  enough  to  use.  In 
another  corner  stood  Granny's  spinning-wheel,  which 
whizzed  cheerily  the  whole  long  day,  and  beside  it  was 
a  low  bench  with  a  tin  wash-basin,  a  cake  of  home- 
made soap  and  a  coarse  towel.  There  was  very  little 
furniture  besides,  except  a  few  chairs,  the  big  table, 
the  clock  with  the  long  chains  and  the  noisy  pendu- 
lum, the  picture  of  Queen  Victoria,  and  the  big,  high 
cupboard  into  which  Granny  was  putting  the  supper 
dishes.  This  last  article  of  furniture  was  always  of 
great  interest  to  Scotty.  For  away  up  on  the  top 
shelf,  made  doubly  valuable  by  being  unattainable, 


20  THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

stood  some  wonderful  pieces  of  crockery;  among 
them  a  sugar-bowl  that  Granny  had  brought  from 
the  old  country,  and  which  had  blue  boys  and  girls 
dancing  in  a  gay  ring  about  it.  Then  there  was  the 
glass  jar  with  the  tin  lid  in  which  Grandaddy  kept 
some  mysterious  papers ;  one  piece  was  called  money. 
Scotty  had  actually  seen  it  once,  in  Grandaddy's 
hands,  and  wondered  secretly  why  such  ugly,  crum- 
pled, green  paper  should  be  considered  so  precious. 

"  An'  would  Peter  Lauchie  not  be  coming  across 
the  swamp  with  you,  m*  eudall  bheg?  "  his  grand- 
mother was  asking  for  the  fifth  time. 

"  Noh !  "  The  boy's  answer  was  quick  and  dis- 
dainful. Somehow  he  would  rather  Granny  would 
not  pat  his  head  and  lavish  endearing  Gaelic  epithets 
upon  him  to-night ;  such  things  had  been  very  sooth- 
ing in  the  past  when  he  was  sleepy  and  wanted  to  go 
to  bed;  but  now  he  was  a  big  boy,  going  to  school, 
and  had  fought  and  defeated  in  single  combat  one 
of  the  MacDonalds'  enemies,  and  he  could  not  be 
expected  to  endure  petting. 

"  Why,  Granny !  "  he  cried,  "  I  would  be  knowing 
the  road  all  right.  Peter  Lauchie  jist  came  to  his 
clearin',  and  I  would  be  coming  to  the  line  all  alone, 
and  then  I  met  Grandaddy  an'  the  boys  there." 

"  Eh,  indeed,  it  is  the  great  man  you  will  be,  what- 


ANEWNAME  21 

ever,"  she  said,  regarding  him  wistfully.  This  child, 
her  last  baby,  and  the  best-beloved,  was  growing  up 
swiftly  to  manhood,  and  like  all  the  others  would  soon 
have  interests  beyond  her.  "  An'  would  Granny's 
boy  not  be  fearing  to  cross  the  swamp  alone?  "  Her 
voice  was  almost  pleading.  She  bent  down,  and  her 
thin,  hard  hand  rested  caressingly  on  his  dark, 
tumbled  curls.  She  yearned  to  liear  him  confess 
himself  her  baby  still.  He  threw  back  his  head  and 
looked  up  into  her  tender,  wrinkled  face;  and  one 
little  hand  went  up  suddenly  to  caress  its  rough  sur- 
face. For  Scotty  had  a  heart  (^uite  out  of  propor- 
tion to  the  size  of  his  body,  and  a  look  of  grief  on 
Granny's  face  could  move  him  quicker  than  the 
sternest  command  of  his  grandfather. 

"  Yes,"  he  confessed  in  a  whisper,  "  I  would  be 
fearing  jist  once,  and  then  I  spoke  the  piece  about 
*  the  Lord  is  my  Shepherd '  and  then  I  wouldn't  be 
minding  much.  Sing  it,  Granny." 

So  Granny  sang  the  Shepherd's  psalm  in  Gaelic,  as 
she  went  slowly  about  her  household  tasks ;  sang  it  in 
a  thin,  quavering  voice  to  a  weird  old  Scottish  melody 
that  had  in  it  the  wail  of  winds  over  lone  heather 
moors,  and  the  sob  of  waves  on  a  wild,  rock-bound 
coast.  She  came  and  went,  in  and  out  of  the  dancing 
ring  of  fire-light,  a  tall,  thin  figure,  stooped  and 


22  THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

aged-looking,  apparently  more  from  hard  work  than 
from  advanced  years.  But  her  toil-bent  frame,  her 
rough  hands  and  coarse  grey  homespun  dress  could 
not  quite  hide  the  air  of  gentle  dignity  that  clothed 
her.  There  was  a  certain  lofty  refinement  in  her 
movements;  and  on  her  wrinkled  face  and  in  her 
beautiful  grey  eyes  the  imprint  of  a  soul  that  toil 
and  pain  had  only  strengthened  and  sweetened. 
Hers  was  the  face  of  a  woman  who  had  suffered  much, 
but  had  conquered,  and  always  would  conquer, 
through  faith  and  love. 

To  the  little  boy  on  the  hearthstone,  at  least,  the 
thin,  stooped  figure  and  worn  face  made  up  the  most 
beautiful  personality  the  world  could  produce.  But 
he  turned  to  the  fire,  and  his  dreams  floated  far  away 
beyond  the  ring  of  fire-light,  and  beyond  Granny's 
gentle  voice.  For  he  had  entered  a  new  world  that 
day,  the  great  new  world  of  school,  and  his  imagina- 
tion had  a  wider  field  in  which  to  run  riot. 

He  was  still  dreaming,  and  Granny  was  half-way 
through  the  psalm  for  the  second  time,  when  the 
stamping  of  snowy  feet  at  the  door  announced  the 
return  of  Big  Malcolm  and  his  sons.  Callum  came 
swinging  in  first,  Callum  who  was  such  a  gay,  hand- 
some, rollicking  fellow  that  he  was  Scotty's  hero  and 
copy.  The  boy  sprang  up,  pitching  himself  upon 


ANEWNAME  23 

him,  and  was  promptly  swung  over  the  young  man's 
shoulders,  until  his  feet  kicked  the  raftered  ceiling. 
Scotty  yelled  with  glee,  Bruce  leaped  up  barking,  and 
the  room  was  in  an  uproar. 

"  Hooch !  be  quate !  "  shouted  Big  Malcolm.  "  It 
is  a  child  you  are  yourself,  Callum ! " 

At  the  sounds  of  the  noise  and  laughter  a  small 
figure  stirred  in  the  shadowy  chimney-corner,  the 
figure  of  a  little,  bent,  old  man,  with  a  queer,  elfish, 
hairy  visage.  He  sat  up  and  his  small,  red  eyes 
blinked  wonderingly.  "  Hech,  hech,  and  it  will  be 
the  cold  night,  Malcolm !  "  he  said  in  Gaelic. 

"  A  cold  night  it  is,  Farquhar,"  cried  Big  Malcolm, 
piling  the  wood  upon  the  fire.  "  But  we  will  soon  be 
fixing  that,  whatever." 

"  It  will  be  a  good  thing  to  be  by  a  warm  fire  this 
night,"  continued  Old  Farquhar  solemnly,  "  och, 
hone,  a  good  thing,  indeed ! " 

Outside  the  wind  had  once  more  gathered  its  forces, 
and  was  howling  about  the  house,  and  the  swaying 
branches  of  the  silver  maple  were  tapping  upon  the 
roof  as  though  to  remind  the  inhabitants  that  it  was 
still  there  to  protect  them.  But  the  little  old  man 
shivered  at  the  sound,  for  he  had  once  known  what 
it  was  to  be  homeless  on  those  hills  over  which  the 
blast  was  sweeping. 


24.  THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

How  Old  Farquhar  came  to  be  a  member  of  Big 
Malcolm  MacDonald's  family  no  one  could  quite 
tell.  He  was  one  of  those  unattached  fragments  of 
humanity  often  found  in  a  new  country.  A  sort  of 
wandering  minstrel  was  Farquhar,  content  so  long  as 
he  could  pay  for  a  meal  or  a  night's  lodging  at  a  way- 
side tavern  by  a  song,  or  a  tune  on  his  fiddle.  Thus 
he  had  drifted  musically  for  years  through  the 
Canadian  backwoods,  until  homeless  old  age  had  over- 
taken him.  Four  years  before  he  had  spent  a  sum- 
mer at  Big  Malcolm's,  helping  perfunctorily  in  the 
harvest  fields,  working  little  and  singing  much,  and 
when  the  first  hard  frost  had  set  the  forest  aflame 
he  had  gathered  his  poor,  scant  bundle  of  clothes 
into  his  carpet-bag  preparatory  to  taking  the  road 
again. 

"  And  where  will  you  be  going  for  the  winter?  " 
Big  Malcolm  had  asked. 

"  She'll  not  know,"  said  Old  Farquhar,  glancing 
tremulously  over  the  great  stretches  of  dying  forest, 
"  she'll  not  know." 

"  Hooch !  "  cried  his  host  angrily,  "  sit  down  with 
ye ! "  He  snatched  up  Old  Farquhar's  carpet-bag 
and  flung  it  into  a  corner,  and  there  it  had  lain  ever 
since. 

And  in  another  corner,  the  warm  one  by  the  chim- 


ANEWNAME  25 

ney,  Old  Farquhar  had  sat  every  winter  since,  too, 
smoking  his  pipe  in  utter  content.  Always  in  sum- 
mer his  Bohemian  nature  asserted  itself  again,  and  he 
would  take  his  stick  and  wander  away,  remaining, 
perhaps,  for  months ;  but  as  soon  as  the  silver  maple 
beside  the  house  began  to  turn  to  gold  he  would 
come  hobbling  back,  sure  of  a  warm  welcome  in  the 
home  where  there  was  no  stint. 

The  family  gathered  about  the  cheerful  hearth: 
every  one  of  them,  to  Scotty's  great  delight,  for  there 
was  not  half  the  fun  at  home  when  "  the  boys  "  went 
off  in  the  evenings.  At  one  side  of  the  fire  sat  his 
grandmother,  her  peaceful  face  bent  over  her  knit- 
ting, and  opposite  her  Big  Malcolm  smoking  and 
happy.  Hamish,  as  usual,  retired  to  the  old  bench 
behind  the  table,  and  with  the  one  candle  close  to  him, 
was  soon  absorbed  in  a  book.  In  some  miraculous 
way  Hamish  always  managed  to  have  reading  mate- 
rial at  hand,  though  the  luxury  sometimes  cost  him 
a  tramp  half-way  across  the  township  of  Oro.  Near 
the  fire,  balanced  uneasily  on  the  woodbox  and  whit- 
tling a  stick,  sat  Callum ;  for  Callum  could  never  sit 
down  quietly,  even  at  home.  Callum  Fiach,  or  Wild 
Malcolm,  they  called  him  in  this  land  of  many  Mac- 
Donalds,  where  the  dearth  of  names  necessitated  a 
descriptive  title.  Unfortunately,  Callum's  especial 


26  THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

cognomen  was  quite  appropriate  and  the  cause  of 
much  anxiety  to  his  gentle  mother.  But  Scotty 
thought  it  was  fine;  he  intended  to  be  just  like  Cal- 
lum  when  he  grew  up.  He  would  stand  up  straight 
and  grand  and  cut  down  great  trees  and  fight  the 
Murphys,  and  go  off  in  the  evenings  and  be  chaffed 
about  having  a  sweetheart.  Rory  was  always  teas- 
ing Callum  about  Long  Lauchie's  Mary,  and  Scotty 
was  resolved  that,  when  he  was  big,  he  would  go  to  see 
Mary's  sister,  Betty;  for  then  he  and  Callum  could 
go  together.  He  cordially  despised  the  chosen  Betty 
as  a  girl  and  a  cry-baby,  who  gave  her  brother,  Peter, 
endless  trouble;  but  he  was  determined  to  shirk  no 
task,  however  unpleasant,  that  would  make  him  more 
like  his  hero. 

When  they  were  all  ready  to  listen  to  him,  the  boy 
seated  himself  upon  a  bench  beside  Rory,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  relate  once  more  to  his  admiring  family 
the  wonderful  experiences  of  the  day ;  the  greatness 
of  the  schoolmaster;  the  magnificence  of  the  school 
itself;  the  prowess  of  Peter  Lauchie  and  Roarin' 
Sandy's  Archie,  how  they  declared  they  weren't 
afraid  of  even  the  master;  the  number  of  boys  old 
McAllister  could  thrash  in  a  day,  and  the  amount  he 
knew ;  such  fearsome  long  words  as  he  could  spell,  and 
the  places  he  could  point  out  on  the  map !  He  chat- 


ANEWNAME  27 

tered  on  to  his  delighted  audience,  but  for  some 
strange  reason  he  made  no  further  .allusion  to  his 
fight. 

When  there  was  no  more  to  tell,  Rory  crossed  the 
room  and  with  elaborate  care  took  down  a  box  from  a 
shelf  above  the  bed.  From  it  he  tenderly  took  out  a 
violin,  and  after  much  strumming  and  tuning  up  he 
seated  himself  upon  a  chair  in  the  middle  of  the  room 
and  struck  up  the  lively  air  of  "  The  MacDonalds* 
Reel."  Scotty  leaped  to  the  floor;  Rory's  fiddle 
could  do  anything  with  him,  make  him  dance  with  mad 
joy  until  he  was  exhausted,  stir  him  up  to  a  wild 
longing  to  go  away  and  do  deeds  of  impossible  prow- 
ess, or  even  make  him  creep  into  the  shadows  be- 
hind Granny's  chair  and  weep  heart-broken  tears  into 
her  ample  skirts. 

To-night  the  tune  was  gay,  and  Callum  came  out 
into  the  ring  of  light,  and  sitting  astride  a  chair  with 
his  arms  crossed  over  its  back,  put  his  nephew 
through  the  intricacies  of  the  Highland  Fling  until  he 
was  gasping  for  breath.  Granny  saw,  and  stopped 
the  dance  by  a  nod  and  smile  to  Rory ;  the  music 
instantly  changed  to  a  slow,  wailing  melody,  and  the 
boy  dropped  into  a  chair  and  sat  gazing  into  the  fire, 
dreaming  dreams  of  mystery  and  wonder. 

Then  they  all  sang  old-fashioned  Scottish  songs; 


28  THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

songs  that  were  old  before  Burns  came  to  give  Scot- 
land a  new  voice.  And  Old  Farquhar  struck  in,  dur- 
ing a  short  pause,  with  one  of  Ossian's  songs  of  war- 
like doings  and  glorious  deaths.  He  sang  in  a 
cracked,  weird  voice  to  a  wild  Gaelic  air  that  had 
neither  melody  nor  rhythm,  but  somehow  contained 
the  poetic  fire  of  the  impromptu  songs  of  the  old 
bards.  Rory  followed,  putting  in  a  note  here  and 
there;  but  as  the  song  wavered  on  and  showed  no 
signs  of  coming  to  an  end,  he  struck  up,  "  The  Hun- 
dred Pipers  an'  a*  an'  a',"  and  drowned  out  the  old 
man's  wail.  Then  Burns  was  not  forgotten,  and 
they  were  all  in  the  midst  of  "  Ye  Banks  and  Braes  o' 
Bonnie  Doon,"  a  song  that  always  made  Scotty's 
heart  ache  as  though  it  would  burst,  he  knew  not  why, 
when  the  door  opened  suddenly,  letting  in  a  rush  of 
frosty  air,  and  a  visitor. 

No  one  ever  knocked  at  a  neighbour's  door  in  the 
Canadian  backwoods,  and  James  MacDonald,  or 
Weaver  Jimmie,  as  he  was  called,  was  such  a  familiar 
figure  at  Big  Malcolm's  that  even  Bruce  merely  raised 
his  eyes  as  he  entered.  Mrs.  MacDonald  smiled  her 
welcome,  Big  Malcolm  shoved  forward  a  chair,  and 
the  music  flowed  on  uninterrupted. 

Weaver  Jimmie  was  a  young  man,  short,  and  thick- 
set. He  was  something  of  an  anomaly ;  for,  while  he 


ANEWNAME  29 

was  the  coolest  fighter  in  the  township  of  Oro,  and 
gloried  in  strife,  he  was  nervous  and  embarrassed  to 
the  verge  of  distraction  when  in  company,  particu- 
larly if  it  consisted  of  the  fair  sex.  This  diffidence 
partly  arose  from  the  fact  that  poor  Jimmie  was 
hopelessly  ugly,  and  painfully  aware  of  his  short- 
comings. His  chief  characteristics  were  a  brilliant 
and  bristling  red  beard  and  a  pair  of  long,  flat  feet. 
He  realised  to  the  full  that  these  obtrusive  features 
were  anything  but  things  of  beauty,  and  found  them 
a  sorrow  forever  in  his  vain  attempts  to  conceal 
them. 

At  Big  Malcolm's  invitation  he  moved  up  to  the 
fire  in  nervous  haste,  and  with  a  deprecating  smile ; 
dropped  suddenly  into  a  chair,  and  tilted  it  back  in 
imitation  of  Callum's  easy  nonchalance;  but  finding 
the  character  difficult  to  maintain  in  view  of  his  feet, 
he  suddenly  came  down  to  the  horizontal  once  more, 
and  in  so  doing  descended  upon  poor  Bruce's  tail. 
That  unoffending  canine  uttered  a  yelp  of  pain, 
echoed  by  Scotty,  who  sprang  to  comfort  him ;  and 
Rory,  whose  musical  ear  had  been  irritated  by  the 
disturbance,  suddenly  drew  his  bow  with  a  discordant 
rasp  across  the  strings,  and  ended  the  melodious  song 
with  a  long,  wolf-like  howl. 

"  Hoots,  toots,  Rory  lad ! "  cried  his  mother  re- 


30  THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

proachfully.  "  Come  away,  Jimmie  man,  come  away 
to  the  fire,  it  will  be  a  cold  night  indeed." 

But  Weaver  Jimmie  was  so  overcome  by  his  em- 
barrassing mistake  that,  instead  of  obeying,  he 
backed  away  into  the  shadows  like  a  restive  horse. 

"  And  how  will  all  the  folk  in  the  glen  be,  Jim- 
mie? "  asked  Big  Malcolm. 

Under  cover  of  the  conversation  that  ensued,  Rory 
gently  drew  his  bow  across  the  strings,  and  softly 
sang  an  old  ditty  that  had  an  especial  meaning  for 
their  guest — 

"  Oh,  Jinny  banged,  Jinny  banged,  Jinny  banged  the  Weaver ! 
Ah  cackled  like  a  clockin'  hen, 
When  Jinny  banged  the  Weaver!" 

Callum  Fiach's  eyes  danced,  and  Weaver  Jimmie 
laughed  sheepishly.  He  took  off  his  cap,  replaced 
it  again,  smoothed  his  whiskers  furiously,  and  then 
gazed  around  as  if  seeking  a  means  of  escape. 

"  Don't  you  be  heedin'  the  lad,  Jimmie,"  cried  Mrs. 
MacDonald.  "  It  is  jist  his  foolishness." 

"  Hooch,"  cried  Weaver  Jimmie,  with  a  fine  as- 
sumption of  disdain,  "  it's  little  I'll  be  carin'  for  the 
likes  o'  him,  whatever." 

"D'ye  think  she'll  ever  have  you,  Jimmie?"  in- 
quired the  musician  with  great  seriousness. 


A    NEW    NAME  31 

"  I'll  not  be  knowing  for  sure,"  replied  the  Weaver, 
throwing  one  knee  over  the  other  in  a  vain  attempt  to 
appear  at  ease.  "  She  would  be  lookin'  a  deal  better 
these  days,  though !  "  he  added,  hopefully,  as  though 
the  young  lady  of  his  choice  had  been  suffering  from 
some  wasting  disease. 

"  Hang  me,  but  I  believe  I'll  go  sparkin'  Kirsty 
John  myself!"  said  Callum  resolutely.  "I'll  be 
wantin'  a  wife  bad  when  the  north  clearin'  is  ready, 
and  I  believe  Kirsty's  got  a  fancy  for  me." 

"  You'd  better  be  mindin'  your  own  business  indeed, 
Callum  Fiach ! "  cried  Weaver  Jimmie,  with  a  sudden 
fierceness  that  contrasted  strangely  with  his  habitual 
diffidence.  "  She  will  be  a  smarter  woman  than  you'll 
be  ever  gettin'  with  your  feckless  ways,  indeed !  " 

"  Well,  I'm  afraid  there  isn't  much  chance  that 
you'll  be  gettin'  her  either,"  said  Callum  very  seri- 
ously. "  Man,  she  would  be  givin'  you  a  fine  black 
eye  the  last  time  you  asked  her." 

Scotty  turned  away  impatiently.  The  boys  al- 
ways seemed  to  get  a  great  deal  of  fun  out  of  Weaver 
Jimmie's  tempestuous  love-affair,  but  he  found  it  very 
uninteresting.  He  slipped  under  the  table,  clam- 
bered upon  the  bench  beside  Hamish,  and  stuck  his 
curly  head  between  the  book  and  the  young  man's 
face;  for  he  had  long  ago  discovered  this  to  be  the 


32  THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

only  effectual  means  of  bringing  Hamish  back  to 
actualities.  Such  a  proceeding  would  not  have  been 
safe  with  Callum  or  Rory,  but  Hamish  was  always 
patient.  "  What  ye  readin',  Hamish?  "  he  inquired 
coaxingly. 

"  Jist  a  book,"  said  Hamish  dreamily.  "  Be  care- 
ful of  it  now.  It  belongs  to  the  Captain !  " 

"  Captain  Herbert?  The  Englishman  Grandaddy 
hates?" 

"  Yes ;  whisht,  will  ye  ?  I  didn't  get  it  from  him, 
though.  Kirsty  John's  mother  had  it,  and  lent  it 
to  me." 

"  Was  you  ever  at  the  Captain's  place?  " 

"  Yes,  once." 

"Is  it  fearful  grand?" 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  so.  But  I  would  jist  be  at  the 
back  door.  Take  care,  now,  and  let  me  read !  " 

"  The  back  door !  "  Scotty's  eyes  ranged  wonder- 
ingly  round  the  walls.  With  the  exception  of  the 
trap-door  leading  to  the  loft  the  house  had  but  one 
opening.  "  Eh,  the  Captain's  folks  must  be  awful 
grand,  Hamish,  to  be  having  two  doors  to  their 
house." 

Hamish  laughed.  "  There's  grander  things  than 
that  there ;  there's  carpets  on  the  floor,  an'  a  piano  to 
play  on,  an'  a  whole  roomful  o'  books !  Losh ! "  he 


ANEWNAME  33 

exclaimed,  "  I'd  like  to  get  my  hands  on  them  jist  for 
a  day ! " 

"  How  did  Kirsty  John's  mother  get  this  one  ?  " 

"  The  lady  that  lives  there  lent  it  to  her.  Kirsty's 
mother  used  to  work  for  them.  Go  on  away  now, 
and  let  me  read !  "  for  the  boy  was  running  his  fingers 
through  the  pages.  "  There's  no  pictures ;  go  and 
play  with  Bruce." 

But  Scotty  had  turned  to  the  fly-leaf  and  had  dis- 
covered some  writing.  "  What's  that,  Hamish?  " 

Hamish  read  the  inscription,  which  was  written  in 
a  round  boyish  scrawl,  "  Isabel  Douglas  Herbert, 
from  her  loving  cousin,  Harold." 

"Who're  they?" 

"  The  boy's  the  Captain's  son,  and  the  little  girl  is 
his  niece.  I  saw  her  once  at  Kirsty's.  She's  a 
pretty,  wee  thing." 

"  Huh !  "  Scotty  was  disdainful.  "  I  don't  like 
girls.  They  will  jist  be  cry-babies.  Is  the  boy  as 
big  as  me?  " 

"  He's  a  little  bigger,  I  guess.  He  goes  to  school 
away  in  Toronto." 

"  Bet  I  could  fight  him.  Is  Toronto  away  over 
in  the  old  country  ?  " 

"  No,  it's  in  Canada.     Be  quiet.     I  want  to  read." 

"  Oh !     Is  Canady  very  far  away  ?  " 


34  THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

"  No,  it's  right  here ;  this  is  Canada." 

"  Oh !  An'  will  the  school-house  be  in  Canady 
too?" 

"  Yes." 

"An'  the  Captain's  house?" 

"  Imph-n-n." 

"  Oh!  An'  all  Oro,  an'  Lake  Simcoe?  What  will 
you  be  laughing  at?  " 

"  Wait  till  old  McAllister  learns  you  some  geog- 
raphy. You'll  hear  something  about  Canada  that'll 
surprise  you,  whatever." 

"  It  won't  be  as  big  as  the  old  country,  though, 
will  it?  "  But  Hamish  did  not  answer.  He  was 
far  away  with  David  Copperfield  once  more.  The 
boy  raised  the  fly-leaf  and  took  another  peep  at  the 
name.  He  sat  very  quiet  for  a  few  moment's  and 
then  he  crept  closer  to  his  uncle,  a  red  flush  creep- 
ing up  under  the  tan  of  his  cheeks,  his  black  eyes 
shining. 

"  Hamish !  "  he  whispered,  "  Hamish,  will  that  be 
an — English  name?  " 

"Eh?  What  name?"  Hamish  awoke  reluctantly 
to  the  troublesome  realities.  "  I'll  not  know." 

"  Aw,  tell  me,  Hamish !  " 

"  My,  but  you  will  be  a  bother  I  Yes,  Herbert  will 
be  an  English  name,  but  Isabel  Douglas  is  Scotch,  an' 


ANEWNAME  35 

a  fine  Hielan'  name,  too.  But  what  in  the  world 
would  you  be  wanting  to  know  for  ?  " 

Scotty  hesitated.  He  hung  his  black,  curly  head, 
and  swung  his  feet  in  embarrassment;  but  finally  he 
looked  up  desperately. 

"  Do  you  know  what  made  Danny  Murphy  say  I 
was  an  Englishman  ?  "  he  whispered. 

Hamish  stifled  a  laugh.  "It  would  likely  jist  be 
his  natural  Irish  villainy,"  he  suggested  solemnly. 

But  Scotty  shook  his  head  at  even  such  a  natural 
explanation.  "  No,  it  would  not  be  that,  it  would 
be — because — the  master  said  it,  Hamish !  " 

"The  master?"  Hamish's  look  of  amusement 
changed  to  one  of  deep  interest.  "  Why  ?  What 
would  he  be  saying?  " 

The  boy  glanced  around  the  room  apprehensively, 
but  the  rest  of  the  family  were  still  absorbed  in 
Weaver  Jimmie.  "  When  we  would  be  coming  into 
the  school,"  he  whispered  hurriedly,  "  the  master 
would  be  calling  all  the  new  ones  to  the  front.  An' 
he  says  to  me,  '  What's  your  name,  child  ?  '  An  I 
says,  '  It's  Scotty, — Scotty  MacDonald.'  An*  he 
says,  *  Hut  tut,  another  MacDonald !  Yon's  no 
name.  Whose  bairn  are  ye  ? '  An'  I  told  him  I 
belonged  to  Grandaddy  an'  the  boys ;  an'  he  says, — 
an'  he  says,  *  Oh  tuts,  I  know  you  now.  You're  Big 


36  THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

Malcolm's  English  grandson!  'r  He  would  be  saying 
that,  Hamish !  An'  he  wrote  a  name  for  me ;  see !  " 
He  had  been  growing  more  and  more  excited  as  the 
recital  proceeded,  and  at  this  point  he  jerked  from 
his  bosom  a  torn  and  battered  primer  that  had  done 
duty  in  the  few  days  that  Hamish  had  attended 
school.  Under  the  scrawling  marks  that  stood  for 
Hamish's  name  was  written  in  a  fine  scholarly  flour- 
ish, "  Ralph  Everett  Stanwell." 

"  Humph ! "  Hamish  gazed  at  the  book,  and  a 
look  of  sadness  crept  into  his  kind,  brown  eyes.  He 
glanced  across  the  room  at  his  father.  Weaver  Jim- 
mie  had  just  departed,  and  Callum  was  leaning  over 
the  back  of  his  chair  laughing  immoderately,  while 
Rory  was  out  in  the  middle  of  the  floor  executing  a 
lively  step-dance  accompanied  by  voice  and  fiddle  to 
the  words,  «  Ha !  Ha !  the  wooin'  o't !  " 

"  Look  here,  father,"  called  Hamish,  "  do  you  see 
what  the  schoolmaster  would  be  writing  in  Scotty's 
book?  " 

Big  Malcolm  took  the  primer,  adjusted  his  spec- 
tacles, and  moved  the  little  book  up  and  down  before 
the  candle  to  get  the  proper  focus.  "  Ralph  Everett 
Stanwell,"  he  read  slowly.  "  What  kind  o'  a  name 
would  that  be,  whatever ! "  he  cried,  with  a  twinkle  in 
his  eye. 


ANEWNAME  37 

"  It's  got  a  fearsome  kind  of  a  sough  to  it,"  said 
Callum  apprehensively. 

"  It  will  be  an  English  name  1 "  cried  Scotty 
fiercely,  "  an'  Peter  Lauchie  would  be  saying  it  is 
jist  no  name  at  all !  " 

The  young  men  burst  into  laughter,  which  served 
only  to  increase  their  nephew's  wrath.  He  sprang 
out  upon  the  floor,  his  black  eyes  blazing,  and  stamped 
his  small  foot. 

"I'll  not  be  English!"  he  shouted.  "It's  jist 
them  louts  from  the  Tenth  is  English!  An'  I'll  be 
Hielan'.  An'  it's  not  my  name !  " 

"  Eh,  eh,  mannie ! "  cried  his  grandmother  gently. 
She  laid  her  hand  on  the  boy's  arm  and  drew  him 
toward  her.  "  That  will  be  no  way  for  a  big  boy 
that  will  be  going  to  school  to  behave,"  she  whispered. 
The  child  turned  to  her  and  saw  to  his  amazement 
that  her  eyes  were  full  of  tears.  His  sturdy  little 
figure  stiffened  suddenly,  and  he  made  a  desperate 
effort  for  self-control. 

"  But  it  would  be  a  great  lie,  Granny !  "  he  faltered 
appealingly. 

"  Hoots,  never  you  mind !  "  cried  his  grandfather, 
with  strange  leniency ;  and  even  in  the  midst  of  his 
passion  Scotty  dimly  wondered  that  he  did  not  receive 
a  summary  chastisement  for  his  fit  of  temper.  There 


38  THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

was  a  strange,  sad  look  in  the  man's  eyes  that  alarmed 
the  child  more  than  anger  would  have  done. 

"  Granny  will  be  telling  you  all  about  it,"  he  said, 
rising.  "  Come,  lads,  it  will  be  getting  late." 

The  three  young  men  followed  their  father  out  to 
the  stable.  Ordinarily  they  attended  to  the  evening 
duties  there  themselves,  but  to-night  Big  Malcolm 
wished  to  leave  the  boy  alone  with  his  grandmother, 
realising  that  the  situation  needed  a  woman's  delicate 
handling. 

This  new  proceeding  filled  Scotty  with  an  added 
alarm.  He  clambered  up  on  his  grandmother's  knee 
as  soon  as  they  were  alone  and  demanded  an  explana- 
tion ;  surely  that  English  name  wasn't  his.  He 
whispered  the  momentous  question,  for  though  Old 
Farquhar  was  snoring  loudly  in  his  corner,  Bruce  was 
there,  wide  awake  and  looking  up  inquiringly,  as 
though  he  could  understand. 

And  so,  with  her  arms  about  him,  Granny  told  him 
for  the  first  time  the  story  of  his  birth.  How 
Granny  had  had  only  one  little  girl,  older  than  Cal- 
lum,  eh,  and  such  a  sweet  lassie  she  was;  how  just 
when  they  had  landed  in  Canada  she  had  married  a 
young  Englishman  who  had  come  over  with  them  on 
the  great  ship ;  how  they  had  left  them  in  Toronto 
when  they  came  north  to  the  forests  of  Oro ;  how  their 


ANEWNAME  39 

baby  had  come,  the  most  beautiful  baby,  Granny's 
little  girl  wrote,  and  how  she  had  written  also  that 
they,  too,  were  coming  north  to  live  near  the  old  folks 
when, — Granny's  voice  faltered, — when  the  fever 
came,  and  both  Granny's  beautiful  little  girl  and  her 
Englishman  died,  and  Grandaddy  and  Callum  had 
journeyed  miles  through  the  bush  to  bring  Granny 
her  baby,  and  how  Kirsty  John's  mother  had  carried 
him  all  the  way,  and  how  he  was  all  Granny  had  left 
of  her  bright  lass ! 

At  the  sound  of  grief  in  his  grandmother's  voice, 
the  child  put  up  his  hand  to  stroke  her  face,  and 
found  it  wet  with  tears.  Instantly  he  forgot  his 
own  trouble  in  sympathy  for  hers,  and  clasping  his 
hands  about  her  neck  he  soothed  her  in  the  best  way 
he  knew.  He  scarcely  understood  her  grief;  was 
Granny  crying  because  he  was  only  an  Englishman 
after  all?  For  to  him,  bereavement  and  death  were 
but  names,  and  in  the  midst  of  abounding  love  he  had 
never  realised  the  lack  of  parents. 

He  had  often  heard  of  them  before,  of  his  beautiful 
mother,  whose  eyes  were  so  dark  and  whose  hair  was 
so  curly  like  his  own;  and  how  his  father  had  been 
such  a  fine,  big,  young  man,  and  a  gentleman  too, 
though  Scotty  had  often  vaguely  wondered  just  what 
that  meant.  But  that  his  parents  had  left  him  an 


40  THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

inheritance  of  a  name  and  lineage  other  than  Mac- 
Donald  he  had  never  dreamed.  And  now  there  was 
no  denying  the  humiliating  truth ;  his  father  had  been 
an  Englishman,  he  himself  was  English,  and  that  dis- 
graceful name,  at  which  Peter  Lauchie  had  sneered, 
was  his  very  own.  Henceforth  he  must  be  an  outcast 
among  the  MacDonalds,  and  be  classed  with  the 
English  crew  that  lived  over  on  the  Tenth,  and  whom, 
everyone  knew,  the  MacDonalds  despised.  Yes,  and 
he  belonged  to  the  same  class  as  that  stuck-up  Cap- 
tain Herbert,  who  lived  in  that  grand  house  on  the 
north  shore  of  Lake  Oro,  and  whom  his  grandfather 
hated ! 

He  managed  to  check  his  tears  by  the  time  the 
boys  returned,  but  during  prayers  he  crouched  miser- 
ably in  a  dark  corner  behind  Hamish,  a  victim  of 
despair.  He  derived  very  little  comfort  from  the 
fact  that  Grandaddy  was  reading,  "  And  thou  shalt 
be  called  by  a  new  name  " ;  it  seemed  only  an  adver- 
tisement of  his  disgrace.  He  wondered  drearily  who 
else  was  so  unfortunate  as  to  be  presented  with  one, 
and  if  it  would  be  an  English  name.  And  after- 
wards, when  they  had  gone  up  to  the  loft  to  bed,  he 
crept  in  behind  Hamish,  and  cried  himself  to  sleep 
because  of  that,  which,  in  after  years,  he  always 
remembered  with  pride. 


Ill 

WINNING    HIS    SPURS 

The  Saxon  force,  the  Celtic  fire, 
These  are  thy  manhood's  heritage! 

— C.  G.  D.  ROBERTS. 

OLD  IAN  McALLISTER,  schoolmaster  of 
Section  Number  Nine,  Oro,  was  calling 
his  flock  into  the  educational  fold.  It  was 
no  clarion  ring  that  summoned  the  youths  from  the 
forest,  for  the  times  were  early  and  a  settlement 
might  be  proud  to  possess  a  school,  without  going  to 
the  extremity  of  such  foolishness  as  a  bell,  and  Num- 
ber Nine  was  not  extravagant.  But  the  schoolmas- 
ter's ingenuity  had  improvised  a  very  good  substitute. 
He  stood  in  the  doorway,  hammering  upon  the  door- 
post with  a  long,  flexible  ruler,  and  making  a  per- 
emptory clatter  that  echoed  far  away  into  the  arches 
of  the  forest  and  hastened  the  steps  of  any  tardy 
youths  approaching  from  its  depths.  Good  cause 
they  had  to  be  expeditious,  too,  for  well  they  knew, 
did  they  linger,  the  master  would  be  apt  to  resume 
the  bastinado  upon  their  belated  persons  when  they 

41 


42  THE     SILVER    MAPLE 

did  arrive.  This  original  method  had  other  advan- 
tages, from  the  schoolmaster's  point  of  view,  for,  as 
his  pupils  crowded  past  him  through  the  narrow  door- 
way, he  had  many  a  fine  opportunity  to  transfer  oc- 
casional whacks  to  the  heads  of  such  boys,  and  girls, 
too,  as  he  felt  would  need  the  admonition  before  the 
day  was  over,  and  who  could  not  manage  to  dodge 
him.  So  those  approaching  the  school,  even  before 
they  came  within  sight  of  the  place,  could  reckon  ex- 
actly the  state  of  the  master's  temper,  and  the  num- 
ber of  victims  sacrificed  thereto,  by  the  intermittent 
sounds  of  the  summoning  stick.  Indeed,  Number 
Nine  possessed  an  almost  superhuman  knowledge  of 
their  master's  mental  workings.  When  he  was 
fiercest  then  they  were  most  hopeful;  for  they  knew 
that,  like  other  active  volcanoes,  having  once  in- 
dulged in  a  terrible  eruption  he  was  not  likely  to 
break  forth  again  for  some  time.  He  was  quite  de- 
pendable, for  his  conduct  followed  certain  fixed  rules. 
First  came  about  a  fortnight  of  stern  discipline  and 
faithful  and  terrifying  attention  to  duty.  During 
this  period  a  subdued  and  busy  hum  pervaded  Num- 
ber Nine  and  much  knowledge  was  gained.  For  Ian 
McAllister  was  a  man  of  no  mean  parts,  and,  as  the 
trustees  of  the  section  were  wont  to  boast,  there  was 
not  such  another  man  in  the  county  of  Simcoe  for 


WINNING     HIS     SPURS  43 

"  bringing  the  scholars  on — when  he  was  at  it." 
But  the  trouble  was  he  could  never  stay  "  at  it  "  very 
long.  A  much  more  joyous,  though  less  profitable, 
season  followed,  during  which  the  schoolmaster's  en- 
ergies were  taken  up  in  a  bitter  and  losing  fight  with 
an  appetite  for  strong  drink.  Poor  McAllister  had 
been  intended  for  a  fine,  scholarly,  upright  character, 
and  he  struggled  desperately  to  maintain  his  in- 
tegrity. But  about  once  in  two  months  he  yielded 
to  temptation.  During  these  "  spells,"  as  Number 
Nine  called  his  lapses  from  duty,  he  still  taught,  but 
in  a  perfunctory  manner,  being  prone  to  play  prac- 
tical jokes  upon  his  pupils,  which,  of  course,  they 
returned  with  interest.  When  he  finally  succumbed 
in  sleep,  with  his  feet  on  the  desk  and  his  red  spotted 
handkerchief  over  his  face,  Number  Nine  took  to  the 
bush  and  proceeded  to  enjoy  life.  That  they  did  not 
altogether  give  themselves  over  to  unbounded  riot 
was  due  to  the  fact  that  the  master's  awakening  might 
occur  at  any  moment.  And  well  they  knew  he  was 
apt  to  come  out  of  his  lethargy  with  awful  sudden- 
ness, with  a  conscience  lashing  him  for  his  weakness 
and  with  a  stern  determination  to  work  out  tremen- 
dous reparation  for  the  lost  hours. 

But  Number  Nine  suffered  little  from  this  change- 
able  conduct.     They    had   studied    their   master    so 


44  THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

faithfully  that  they  could  generally  calculate  what 
would  be  the  state  of  his  temper  at  a  given  time,  and 
guided  themselves  accordingly.  Indeed,  Roarin' 
Sandy's  Archie,  a  giant  MacDonald  who  had  at- 
tended every  winter  since  the  schoolhouse  was  built, 
could  tell  almost  to  a  day  when  the  master  was  likely 
to  relax,  and  he  acted  as  a  sort  of  barometer  to  the 
whole  school. 

But  to-day  McAllister  showed  no  signs  of  relaxa- 
tion as  they  dodged  past  him  and  scrambled  into 
their  places.  The  room  was  soon  filled,  for  the  winter 
term  had  commenced  and  all  the  big  boys  and  girls  of 
the  section  were  in  attendance.  The  schoolroom  was 
small,  with  rough  log  walls  and  a  raftered  ceiling. 
Down  the  middle  ran  a  row  of  long  forms  for  the 
younger  children,  and  along  the  sides  were  ranged  a 
few  well  carved  desks,  at  which  the  elder  pupils  sat 
when  they  wrote  in  their  copy-books.  At  the  end 
nearest  the  door  stood  a  huge  rusty  stove,  always 
red-hot  in  winter,  and  near  it  were  a  big  wooden 
water-pail  and  tin  dipper.  At  the  other  end  of  the 
room  stood  the  master's  desk,  a  long-legged  rickety 
structure,  with  a  stool  to  match,  from  which  lofty 
throne  the  ruler  of  Number  Nine  could  command  a 
view  of  his  realm  and  spy  out  its  most  remote  region 
of  insubordination.  Behind  him  was  the  blackboard, 


WINNING     HIS     SPURS  45 

a  piece  of  sheep-skin  used  as  an  eraser,  and  an  ancient 
and  tattered  map  of  Europe. 

Scotty  was  already  in  his  place ;  he  had  hurried  to 
his  seat  as  soon  as  he  arrived  for  fear  someone  might 
ask  him  his  name,  and  in  dread  lest  he  might  be 
claimed  by  those  English  boys  from  the  Tenth,  whom 
his  soul  loathed. 

He  had  started  to  school  at  a  time  when  the  several 
nationalities  that  were  being  welded  together  to  make 
the  Canadian  race  were  by  no  means  one,  and  he  had 
inherited  all  the  prejudices  of  his  own  people.  Num- 
ber Nine  was  a  school  eminently  calculated  to  keep 
alive  all  the  small  race  animosities  that  characterised 
the  times ;  for  English,  Irish  and  Scotch,  both  High- 
land and  Lowland,  had  settled  in  small  communities 
with  the  schoolhouse  as  a  central  point. 

The  building  was  situated  in  a  hollow  made  by  a 
bend  in  the  Oro  River ;  to  the  north  among  the  green 
hills  surrounding  Lake  Oro,  was  the  Oa,  a  district 
named  after  a  part  of  Islay,  and  there  dwelt  the 
Highlanders;  all  MacDonalds,  all  related,  all  tena- 
ciously clannish,  and  all  such  famous  warriors  that 
they  had  earned  the  name  throughout  the  whole 
County  of  Simcoe  of  the  "  Fighting  MacDonalds," 
a  name  which  their  progeny  who  attended  Number 
Nine  School  strove  valiantly  to  perpetuate. 


46  THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

From  the  low-lying  lands  at  the  south,  a  region 
called  the  Flats,  which  sloped  gently  southward  until 
it  sank  beneath  the  blue  waters  of  Lake  Simcoe,  came 
the  Irish  contingent,  always  merry,  always  quarrel- 
ling, and  always  headed  by  young  Pat  Murphy  and 
Nancy  Caldwell,  who  were  the  chief  warriors  of  the 
section. 

And  over  on  the  western  plains  that  stretched  away 
from  the  banks  of  the  Oro,  on  a  concession  locally 
styled  "  the  Tenth,"  lived  a  class  of  pupils  whose 
chief  representative  had  been  overheard  by  a  High- 
land enemy  to  say,  as  he  named  the  forest  trees  along 
his  path  to  school,  "  That  there's  a  hook,  an'  that 
there's  a  hash,  an'  that  there's  a  helm"  Though  the 
youth  bore  the  highly  respectable  and  historic  name  of 
Tommy  Tucker,  he  was  forever  after  branded  as 
"  Hoak  "  Tucker,  and  his  two  innocent  brothers  were 
dubbed,  respectively,  "  Helm  "  and  "  Hash." 

One  more  nationality  was  represented  in  Number 
Nine,  those  who  approached  the  school-house  with 
the  rising  sun  behind  them.  They  were  Scotch  to  a 
man;  what  was  more,  they  proclaimed  the  fact  upon 
the  fence-tops  and  made  themselves  obnoxious  to  even 
the  MacDonalds,  for  after  all  they  were  only  Low- 
landers,  and  how  could  the  -Celt  be  expected  to  treat 
them  as  equals? 


WINNING     HIS     SPURS  47 

When  this  heterogeneous  assembly  had  all  passed 
under  the  rod  and  seated  themselves,  the  master 
tramped  up  to  his  desk  and  a  solemn  hush  fell  over 
the  room.  This  was  remarkable,  for  unless  McAllis- 
ter was  in  an  unusually  bad  humour  Number  Nine 
buzzed  like  a  saw-mill.  But  this  morning  the  silence 
was  intense  and  ominous,  and  for  a  very  good  reason. 
For  only  the  evening  before  Number  Nine  had  for 
once  miscalculated  their  ruler's  condition,  and  a 
flagrant  act  of  disobedience  had  been  perpetrated. 
McAllister  had  commanded  that  all  fighting  cease, 
and  in  the  face  of  his  interdict  the  MacDonalds  and 
the  Murphys,  according  to  the  established  custom  of 
the  country,  had  manfully  striven  to  exterminate  each 
other.  For  between  the  Oa  and  the  Flats  there  was 
an  undying  feud;  partly  hereditary,  and  partly 
owing  to  the  fact  that  Pat  Murphy  considered  it  an 
impertinence  on  the  part  of  anyone  to  come  from 
the  north  when  he  chose  to  approach  from  the  op- 
posite direction. 

During  school-hours  a  truce  was  preserved,  all  fac- 
tions being  united  against  a  common  foe ;  but  as  soon 
as  school  was  dismissed  the  lines  of  demarcation  be- 
came too  obvious  to  be  overlooked.  The  outlandish 
Gaelic  the  MacDonalds  spoke  when  among  their 
brethren,  their  irritating  way  of  gathering  clan-like 


48  THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

for  the  journey  home,  always  aroused  resentment  in 
the  breasts  of  the  assembling  Murphys.  So,  five 
o'clock  fights  had  long  ago  become  one  of  the  institu- 
tions of  the  school,  and  in  the  winter  when  the  big 
boys  were  present  the  encounters  were  frequent  and 
sanguinary. 

The  schoolmaster  objected  to  all  strife  in  which  he 
had  no  part,  and  since  the  opening  of  the  winter  term 
he  had  set  his  face  like  adamant  against  this  interna- 
tional warfare.  But  his  opposition  served  only  to 
increase  the  ardour  of  the  combatants.  In  vain  he 
scolded  and  thrashed.  In  vain  he  imprisoned  the 
Scots  until  the  Hibernians  had  had  a  reasonable  time 
to  make  an  honourable  retreat.  The  liberated  party 
only  waited  behind  stumps  and  fallen  logs,  with  the 
faithfulness  of  a  lover  to  his  tryst. 

So  at  last  McAllister  arose  in  his  might  and  an- 
nounced that  the  next  time  such  an  affair  occurred  he 
would  thrash  the  leaders  of  each  party  within  an  inch 
of  their  lives.  On  such  occasions  the  schoolmaster 
was  not  to  be  trifled  with,  and  for  a  few  days  even  the 
Murphys  were  cowed. 

But  as  time  passed  there  grew  up  between  the 
belligerents  a  tacit  understanding  that  just  as  soon  as 
the  master  entered  upon  a  less  rigid  frame  of  mind 
they  would  settle  the  fast  accumulating  scores. 


WINNING     HIS     SPURS  49 

So  the  night  succeeding  Scotty's  first  day  at 
school  they  felt  the  time  was  ripe.  Roarin'  Sandy's 
Archie  assured  all  that  a  fight  would  be  perfectly 
safe.  The  master's  tropical  season  was  already  over- 
due some  days,  and  on  the  morrow  he  was  sure  to  be 
jolly.  So  the  forbidden  campaign  had  opened  just  a 
day  too  soon.  It  proved  to  be  an  Armageddon,  too; 
Lowlander  and  Highlander,  Sassenach  and  Hi- 
bernian, they  battered  each  other  right  royally,  and 
now  here  they  were  ranged  before  their  judge  to  find 
to  their  dismay  that  he  was  clear-eyed,  clear-headed, 
and  ready  to  inflict  upon  the  culprits  the  severest 
penalties  of  the  law. 

The  strange,  tense  atmosphere  filled  Scotty  with 
vague  alarm.  He  felt  that  the  air  was  pregnant  with 
disaster.  Danny  Murphy  nudged  him  when  the 
master  closed  his  eyes  for  prayer  and  whispered  that 
"  Somebody  was  goin'  to  get  an  awful  hidin',  likely 
the  MacDonalds."  Prayers  were  extremely  lengthy, 
always  a  bad  sign,  and  Scotty  felt  his  hair  rise  as  at 
their  close  the  master  banged  his  desk  lid,  and  glared 
fiercely  about  him.  Perhaps  McAllister  was  going  to 
thrash  him  for  pretending  he  was  a  MacDonald,  he 
reflected  fearfully. 

The  master  lost  no  time  in  going  straight  to  the 
point,  he  knew  his  period  of  weakness  was  coming 


50  THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

over  him  with  overwhelming  rapidity;  one  more  visit 
to  that  which  lay  in  his  desk  would,  he  knew,  destroy 
his  judgment ;  and  struggling  desperately  to  do  what 
he  deemed  right,  he  put  his  fists  firmly  upon  the  desk 
lid  as  if  to  crush  down  the  tempter  and  proceeded  to 
business. 

"  So,  ye've  been  fighting  again ! "  he  cried,  fixing 
the  row  of  bigger  boys  with  his  eye.  "  Ye  uncivilised 
MacDonald  pack,  an'  ye  savage  Murphy  crew ! 
Tearin'  at  each  other  like  wolves !  Aye !  Roarin' 
an'  rantin'  an'  ragin'  like  a  pack  o'  blood-hounds ! 
Ah,  ye're  nothing  but  a  pack  o'  savages !  Jist  un- 
civilised savages !  But  Ah'll  have  no  wild  beasts  in 
my  school.  Ah'll  teach  ye!  Ah'll  take  some  o'  the 
fight  out  o'  ye !  "  He  glared  meaningly  at  Peter 
Lauchie,  one  of  the  most  bellicose  Highlanders,  but 
that  young  man  dodged  cleverly  behind  Pat  Mur- 
phy's broad  shoulders.  "  Ye'll  think  Ah'll  not  find  ye 
out  ?  "  the  master  shouted  triumphantly.  "  But  Ah'll 
soon  do  that !  Aye,  it  was  at  the  Birch  Crick  ye  were 
fightin'  like  a  pack  o'  wild  beasts ;  ye  thought  ye  were 
far  enough  away  to  be  safe.  But  Ah'll  find  out  who 
started  it ! "  His  eye  ranged  quickly  round  the 
room  and  fell  upon  Scotty,  sitting  open-mouthed 
straight  in  front  of  him.  McAllister  was  not  above 
extorting  information  from  the  younger  pupils,  and 


WINNING     HIS     SPURS  51 

Scotty  went  by  the  Scotch  Line  and  could  be  made  to 
tell.  "  You,  Ralph  Stanwell !  "  he  cried,  fixing  the 
boy  with  an  admonitory  finger.  "  Yen's  your  road. 
Now,  jist  tell  me  all  about  this  fight !  " 

Now,  Scotty,  in  his  eagerness  to  get  home,  had 
taken  the  short  road  across  the  swamp  and  knew 
nothing  of  the  affray.  But  he  scarcely  heard  the 
master's  question ;  he  had  caught  only  that  hateful 
name,  the  name  that  made  him  an  alien  from  the  Mac- 
Donalds  and  classed  him  with  that  baby,  "  Hash  " 
Tucker,  who  was  even  now  weeping  behind  his  slate 
lest  his  big  brother  should  be  thrashed.  Scotty's 
face  flushed  crimson,  his  hands  clenched. 

"  Are  ye  deef  ?  "  roared  the  master.  "  Answer  me 
my  question,  Ralph  Stanwell !  " 

The  boy  leaped  as  if  he  had  been  struck.  "  That 
will  not  be  my  name !  "  he  cried  defiantly. 

McAllister  glared  at  him  with  wild  bloodshot  eyes ; 
under  other  circumstances  he  would  have  been 
ashamed  of  the  part  he  was  playing;  but  now  his 
nerves  were  raw  and  his  temper  was  rendered  wild  by 
his  craving. 

"  Are  ye  ashamed  o'  yer  name,  ye  young  English 
upstart?  "  he  roared. 

That  opprobrious  epithet  "  English "  swept  all 
fear  and  discretion  from  Scotty's  mind.  "  I'll  not 


52  THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

be  English ! "  he  shouted  back,  "  I'U  be  Scotch,  an' 
my  name  will  jist  be  MacDonald,  whatever !  " 

A  low  growl  of  approval  came  from  the  region  of 
the  MacDonalds  at  the  back  of  the  school,  and  Peter 
Lauchie  MacDonald,  who  was  Scotty's  next  of  kin, 
came  out  from  behind  Pat  Murphy  and  snorted  tri- 
umphantly. The  master  reached  out  his  powerful 
arm  and  swept  the  boy  up  onto  his  desk,  holding  him 
there  in  a  terrible  grip.  "  Ah'll  MacDonald  ye !  "  he 
shouted,  shaking  him  to  and  fro.  "  Another  Mac- 
Donald  to  be  a  wild  beast  in  the  school !  Ah'll  knock 
the  MacDonald  out  o'  ye !  Ye  young  English  wasp, 
ye!" 

Scotty's  face  was  white;  but  he  remembered  Cal- 
lum  and  held  his  lips  firmly  to  keep  from  crying  out. 
Peter  Lauchie  half  rose,  "  He'll  be  no  more  English 
than  you !  "  he  shouted.  The  master  turned ;  he  was 
facing  rebellion.  "  Peter  MacDonald,"  he  said  in  a 
low,  thrilling  tone,  "  you  will  go  out  and  cut  me  a 
stick,  an'  when  Ah've  taught  this  ill  piece  with  it  Ah'll 
break  it  over  your  back !  " 

Peter  Lauchie's  defiance  melted  in  the  white  glare 
of  the  master's  wrath.  He  arose  and  stumbled  sul- 
lenly out  of  doors  on  his  unpleasant  errand.  Scotty 
had  been  placed  in  his  especial  care  both  by  the  boy's 
grandmother  and  his  own  mother,  and  his  soul  writhed 


WINNING     HIS     SPURS  53 

under  the  master's  command.  Outside  the  door  he 
paused,  weighing  the  chances  of  returning  without 
the  weapon ;  the  master's  tawse  had  been  removed  the 
night  before,  and  he  might  put  off  the  day  of  judg- 
ment until  the  judge  collapsed.  As  he  stood,  miser- 
ably irresolute,  a  low  hiss  sounded  from  beneath  the 
door.  Roarin'  Sandy's  Archie  had  crept  to  it  on  all 
fours.  "  Don't  be  hurryin'  back,"  he  whispered 
eagerly,  "  I'll  tell  ye  when  to  come ! " 

Peter  Lauchie  stepped  behind  a  hemlock  and 
peeped  through  the  window.  The  first  glance  con- 
vinced him  of  the  wisdom  of  his  friend's  advice ;  delay 
was  the  watchword,  for  trouble  had  arisen  in  a  new 
quarter. 

At  one  of  the  side  desks  near  the  platform  sat 
Nancy  Caldwell.  Nancy  was  the  biggest  girl  in  the 
school  and  the  only  person  in  the  township  of  Oro 
whom  old  McAllister  feared.  She  was  a  handsome 
girl,  belonging  to  one  of  the  leading  Protestant  fam- 
ilies of  the  Flats;  she  was  bold  and  fearless  and 
had  withal  such  a  feminine  ingenuity  for  inventing 
schemes  to  circumvent  the  schoolmaster  that  he  re- 
garded her  with  something  akin  to  superstitious  awe. 

Nancy  had  a  big,  Irish  heart,  and  it  swelled  with 
indignation  when  Scotty  was  put  up  for  execution. 
She  shrewdly  guessed  that  McAllister  was  nearing 


64  THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

the  limit  of  his  strength,  and  thought  she  might 
try  a  tilt  with  him.  So  as  he  tramped  angrily  up  and 
down  the  platform,  she  reached  out,  when  his  back 
was  turned,  and  whisked  the  boy  under  her  desk. 

"  Lie  still !  "  she  whispered.  "  Sure,  I'll  murder 
him  if  he  touches  ye !  " 

McAllister  marched  over  to  her,  his  arm  raised 
threateningly;  the  girl  sat  and  stared  coolly  back. 
For  a  moment  the  baffled  man  stood  glaring  at  her. 
He  would  rather  have  met  all  the  big  boys  in  con- 
certed rebellion  than  Nancy  Caldwell,  and  felt  that 
he  must  be  fortified  within  before  he  could  success- 
fully combat  her.  He  stepped  up  to  his  desk  and 
clutching  a  half-empty  bottle  from  it,  drained  the 
contents. 

The  tension  of  the  school  was  immediately  relaxed ; 
the  pupils  nudged  each  other  and  giggled  and  Nancy 
Caldwell  laughed  aloud  and  pulled  Scotty  out  from 
his  hiding  place. 

As  everyone  expected,  McAllister  sank  into  his 
chair  and  glared  sheepishly  about  him,  making  a 
desperate  attempt  to  retain  his  dignity. 

Peter  Lauchie  stepped  out  from  his  post  of  obser- 
vation, with  a  light  heart;  and  strolled  off  leisurely 
in  search  of  a  weapon.  Since  the  master  was  now  on 
his  way  to  a  better  frame  of  mind,  Peter  was  not 


WINNING     HIS     SPURS  55 

the  one  to  retard  his  happy  progress;  so  he  saun- 
tered about,  knowing  that  Roarin'  Sandy's  Archie 
would  summon  him  when  the  time  was  ripe. 

His  commander  did  not  fail  him.  With  the  keen 
eye  of  an  old  campaigner,  Roarin'  Sandy's  Archie 
saw  the  moment  to  strike.  The  master  had  worked 
up  a  little  energy  and  was  again  making  for  Nancy ; 
now  was  the  time  to  divert  his  attention ;  he  beckoned 
to  his  henchman.  As  Peter  Lauchie  entered  he 
showed  himself  a  worthy  follower  of  a  worthy 
leader,  for  he  strode  solemnly  up  the  aisle,  dragging 
in  his  wake  a  respectably-sized  hemlock  tree,  the 
branches  of  which  swept  up  the  floor  and  whipped 
the  boys  and  girls  in  the  faces,  evoking  shrieks  of 
laughter.  He  paused  before  the  master's  desk  and 
solemnly  handed  him  the  sapling. 

"  Here's  the  switch  to  hide  Scotty  MacDonald, 
sir,"  he  said  with  great  seriousness,  and  a  fine  em- 
phasis on  the  name. 

The  master  turned  like  an  animal  at  bay,  and  the 
school  broke  into  a  torrent  of  laughter.  He  grasped 
the  tree  and  raised  it  above  his  head.  "  Ah'll  batter 
the  cursed  impidence  out  o'  ye,  ye  curse  o'  a  Mac- 
Donald  !  "  he  roared,  making  a  drive  at  the  boy. 

But  Peter  Lauchie  knew  that  the  master  need  not 
now  be  taken  seriously ;  he  darted  down  the  aisle, 


56  THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

McAllister  after  him,  bearing  his  clumsy  weapon, 
and  mowing  down  all  within  three  yards  of  his  path. 
The  boy  leaped  over  the  wood  box,  dodged  round 
the  stove,  upset  the  water  pail  over  the  girls  and 
came  careering  back. 

Number  Nine  rose  to  the  occasion ;  their  year  of 
Jubilee,  so  long  delayed,  had  come  at  last.  The 
boys  joined  in  the  chase,  and  soon  the  master  became 
the  pursued  as  well  as  the  pursuer.  The  girls  shrieked 
and  fled  to  the  wall,  all  except  such  amazons  as  Nancy 
Caldwell  and  Roarin'  Sandy's  Teenie,  who  joined  in 
the  race,  materially  assisting  Peter  by  getting  in 
the  master's  way  or  catching  hold  of  his  flying 
coat-tails. 

The  chase  did  not  last  long;  the  prey,  exhausted, 
fled  out  of  doors  and  the  master  subsided  into  a 
chair.  He  brought  the  school  to  some  semblance  of 
order  and  made  a  feeble  attempt  at  teaching.  But 
by  the  afternoon  he  was  uproariously  genial.  He 
spent  an  hour  conducting  a  competition  in  which 
the  boy  who  could  stand  longest  on  the  hot  stove 
received  the  highest  marks,  and  finally  went  to  sleep 
with  his  feet  on  the  desk  and  his  red  handkerchief 
spread  over  his  face. 

But  the  affair  was  not  without  material  benefit 
to  Scotty.  In  his  gallant  refutation  of  the  charge 


WINNING     HIS     SPURS  57 

against  him,  and  in  the  miraculous  way  ne  had 
averted  the  master's  vengeance,  he  had  won  a  place 
in  the  heart  of  every  MacDonald.  Thereafter,  no 
one  outside  the  clan  dared  give  him  his  English  name, 
and  at  last  the  fact  that  he  possessed  one  almost 
faded  from  his  friends',  as  well  as  his  own,  mind. 


IV 
"CAPE   CANADA" 

The  ocean  bursts  in  very  wrath, 
The  waters  rush  and  whirl 
As  the  hardy  diver  cleaves  a  path 
Down  to  the  treasured  pearl. 

— GEORGE  HERBERT  CLARKE. 

THE  days  sped  swiftly,  and  Scotty  learned 
many  things  both  in  and  out  of  school. 
In  the  latter  department  his  chief  instructor 
was  his  nearest  neighbour.  Peter  Lauchie  was  four- 
teen, and  a  wonderful  man  of  the  world  in  Scotty's 
eyes ;  but  in  spite  of  the  great  disparity  of  years 
the  two  were  much  together.  From  his  companion 
Scotty  learned  many  great  lessons.  The  first  and 
cardinal  principle  laid  down  was  that  all  who  hailed 
from  the  Oa  must  wage  internecine  war  upon  the 
Flats  and  must  despise  and  ignore  all  English  and 
Lowlanders.  Another  was  that  one  might  as  well 
make  up  one's  mind  to  attend  to  business  during  Mc- 
Allister's glacial  period,  but  that,  when  a  more  genial 
atmosphere  pervaded  the  school,  the  farther  one  went 

58 


"CAPE     CANADA"  59 

in  inventing  new  forms  of  mischief  the  more  likely 
was  one  to  become  a  hero. 

Peter  Lauchie  further  explained  that  all  Pat 
Murphy's  crew  were  nothing  but  Fenians.  He  pro- 
nounced the  evil  word  in  a  whisper,  and  added  in  a 
more  sepulchral  tone  that  the  Caldwell  boys  and  a 
lot  more  Irish  from  the  Flats,  yes, .  and  "  Hoak  " 
Tucker's  people,  too,  were  Orangemen.  These  ter- 
rible disclosures  filled  Scotty  with  vague  alarm ;  for, 
though  he  strove  to  keep  his  companionship  a  secret, 
there  could  be  no  doubt  that  most  of  his  time  at 
school  was  spent  in  the  very  pleasant  company  of 
Danny  Murphy  and  "  Hash  "  Tucker ;  and  further- 
more that,  since  the  day  she  had  saved  him  from  old 
McAllister's  clutches,  Nancy  Caldwell  had  been  the 
bright,  particular  star  of  his  existence.  He  had 
no  doubt  that  Nancy  returned  his  devotion,  either; 
for  she  brought  him  big  lumps  of  maple  sugar  and 
the  rosiest  apples,  and  was  always  anxious  that  he 
should  share  her  cake.  Of  course,  she  was  apt  to 
exact  payment  for  these  favours,  and  would  chase 
him  all  over  the  school  and  kiss  him  in  spite  of  his 
fiercest  struggles.  But,  nevertheless,  Nancy  held 
his  heart.  Surely  she  could  not  be  anything  very 
wicked.  Fenians  he  knew  something  about;  the 
Fenian  Raids  had  been  talked  of  in  his  home  ever 


60  THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

since  he  could  remember.  Orangemen  might  not  be 
quite  so  bad.  He  made  up  his  mind  he  would  ask 
Hamish  all  about  it. 

There  was  quite  a  little  circle  of  friends  about 
the  fire  that  evening ;  Long  Lauchie  MacDonald  and 
three  of  his  grown-up  sons  had  come  over  for  a  chat, 
and  of  course  Weaver  Jimmie  was  there,  having  been 
turned  out  of  Kirsty  John's  house  at  the  point  of 
the  potato  masher. 

Like  most  of  the  Highlanders,  Long  Lauchie  was 
aptly  described  by  his  name.  He  was  a  tall,  thin, 
attenuated  man.  Everything  about  him  seemed  to 
run  to  a  point  and  vanish;  his  long,  thin  hands,  his 
flimsy  pointed  beard,  even  his  long  nose  and  ears 
helped  out  his  character.  He  rarely  indulged  in  con- 
versation, coming  out  of  an  habitual  reverie  only 
occasionally  to  make  a  remark.  Nevertheless  he  was 
of  a  sociable  turn  and  was  often  seen  at  Big  Mal- 
colm's fireside. 

The  company  sat  round  in  a  comfortable,  hump- 
backed circle,  emitting  clouds  of  smoke  and  dis- 
cussing the  affairs  of  the  Empire;  for  these  men's 
affections  were  still  set  on  the  old  land,  and  that 
which  touched  Britain  was  vital  to  them. 

Then  Old  Farquhar  started  upon  a  tale,  so  long 
and  rambling  that  Rory  took  his  fiddle  and  strummed 


"CAPE     CANADA"  61 

impatiently  in  the  background.  Scotty  understood 
enough  of  Gaelic  to  gather  that  it  was  the  story  of 
a  beautiful  maiden  who  had  died  that  night  when  her 
father  and  brother  and  lover  lay  slain  in  the  bloody 
massacre  of  Glencoe. 

Impatient  of  the  high-flown  Gaelic  phrases,  Scotty 
flew  to  Hamish,  and  his  indulgent  chum  put  aside 
the  book  and  told  him  the  story,  and  why  the  Mac- 
Donalds  hated  the  name  of  Orange.  Scotty  went 
back  to  the  fire,  his  cheeks  aflame  with  excitement. 
Hereafter  he  would  fight  everything  and  anything 
remotely  connected  with  the  name  of  Orange.  See 
if  he  wouldn't ! 

The  conversation  had  turned  to  quite  a  different 
subject.  Weaver  Jimmie  had  the  floor  now,  and  had 
almost  forgotten  his  embarrassing  appendages  in 
the  thrill  of  relating  his  one  great  story;  the  story 
of  how  his  brother  fought  the  Fenians  at  Ridgeway. 

"  Eh,  eh,"  sighed  Long  Lauchie,  "  it  would  maybe 
be  what  the  prophets  would  be  telling,  indeed,  about 
wars  and  rumours  of  wars !  " 

For  Long  Lauchie  not  only  saw  sermons  in  stones, 
and  books  in  the  running  brooks,  but  discerned  in 
the  everyday  occurrences  about  him  fulfilment  of  dire 
prophecy. 

"  Hooch !  "  cried  Big  Malcolm,  "  I  would  rather 


62  THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

be  having  a  Fenian  raid  any  day  than  an  Orangeman 
living  in  the  same  township." 

Long  Lauchie  sadly  shook  his  head  and  went  off 
into  a  series  of  sighs  and  ejaculations,  as  was  his 
way,  receding  farther  and  farther  until  his  voice 
died  away  and  he  sat  gazing  into  space. 

"  Aye,  indeed,  and  mebby  you'll  be  gettin'  one," 
cried  Weaver  Jimmie,  wagging  his  head.  "  Pete 
Nash  himself  told  me  that  Dan  Murphy  and  that 
Connor  crew  an'  all  them  low  Irish  would  be  saying 
at  the  corner  the  other  night  that  they  would  jist 
be  gettin'  up  a  Fenian  Raid  o'  their  own  some  o' 
these  fine  days,  an'  be  takin'  the  Glen,  whatever." 

"  Horo !  "  Callum  Fiach  arose  and  came  forward, 
the  joy  of  a  conflict  dancing  in  his  eyes.  "  Hech, 
but  I  wish  they  would !  " 

"  Whisht  ye,  Callum !  "  cried  his  father  sternly. 
"  Let  the  evil  one  alone.  I'll  have  no  son  o'  mine 
mixin'  with  such  goin's  on ! " 

The  young  man  eyed  his  father  laughingly. 
"  You'd  stay  at  home  if  there  was  a  Fenian  Raid, 
wouldn't  you  ?  "  he  asked  teasingly. 

Big  Malcolm  glanced  uneasily  towards  his  wife. 
His  was  a  hard  position  to  fill  amid  the  fighting  Mac- 
Donalds;  his  whole  life  was  a  struggle  between  his 
inherited  tendencies  and  his  religious  convictions.  He 


"CAPE     CANADA"  63 

preached  peace  on  earth  and  good  will  towards  all 
men ;  and  believed  implicitly  that  the  meek  should 
inherit  the  earth;  but  his  warlike  spirit  was  always 
clamouring  to  be  up  in  arms,  and  sometimes,  in  spite 
even  of  the  strong  influence  of  his  wife,  it  broke  all 
bounds.  He  shook  his  head  at  his  son's  raillery  and 
made  no  reply.  Not  for  a  long  time  had  he  yielded 
to  temptation,  but  he  felt  it  was  not  safe  to  boast. 

"  Well,  if  the  Fenians  ever  come  to  take  Canady 
again,  I  hope  I'll  be  there !  "  cried  Rory  gaily,  break- 
ing into  an  old  warlike  Jacobite  air. 

Weaver  Jimmie  threw  one  leg  over  the  other,  with 
great  nonchalance.  "  They  may  take  Canady,  what- 
ever ;  but  they'll  not  be  taking  Oro ! "  he  remarked 
firmly. 

"  Kirsty  '11  be  lookin'  after  Oro !  "  cried  Callum. 
"  Losh,  but  she'd  bang  the  senses  out  of  the  wildest 
Fenian  that  ever  grew,  if  she  got  after  him ! " 

"  They  didn't  take  much  when  they  did  come/' 
said  Long  Lauchie's  Hugh.  "  Only  a  few  bullets. 
Say,  though,  don't  you  wish  you'd  been  there?" 

Scotty  listened,  his  heart  torn  with  conflicting 
emotions.  He  wanted  to  fight  the  Fenians  now,  but 
with  Danny  a  Fenian,  and  Nancy  and  Hash  Orange- 
men, what  would  become  of  him?  He  guessed  that 
Callum  had  some  scheme  afoot  and  he  kept  close  to 


64  THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

him  all  evening  and  heard  him  conferring  with  Long 
Lauchie's  boys  in  low  tones.  There  was  something 
about  the  Murphys,  and  getting  them  stirred  up,  and 
finally  a  compact  to  all  be  at  the  glen  the  following 
afternoon. 

The  next  day  Scotty  used  all  his  powers  to  effect 
a  journey  to  the  glen,  too.  He  had  some  difficulty, 
however,  for  it  was  Saturday  and  Granny  wanted  him 
with  her;  but  by  dint  of  assistance  from  Hamish 
he  accomplished  his  aim,  and  in  the  afternoon  he 
drove  away  on  the  front  seat  of  the  big  sleigh  be- 
tween Grandaddy  and  Callum,  full  of  exuberant  joy. 

The  Glen  was  a  small  community  at  a  bend  in  the 
River  Oro,  just  a  mile  east  of  the  schoolhouse. 
Though  it  was  near  his  home,  Scotty  had  not  been 
in  it  since  he  was  a  baby.  He  was  wildly  eager  to 
see  the  place.  To  him  it  was  a  great  metropolis,  for 
it  contained  a  tavern  and  a  store,  yes,  and  a  real 
mill  where  they  made  flour.  And  Hamish  had  prom- 
ised to  show  him  the  great  water  wheel  that  made  the 
mill  go,  and  they  were  to  spend  an  hour  at  Thomp- 
son's store,  and  most  of  all  he  was  anxious  to  learn 
the  outcome  of  the  boys'  mysterious  plans  of  the 
night  before. 

The  day  was  delightful,  with  all  the  world  a  gleam 
of  blue  and  silver,  the  glittering  landscape  softened 


"CAPE     CANADA"  65 

here  and  there  by  the  restful  grey  tints  of  the  forest. 
The  blue  skies  with  their  dazzling  white  clouds,  and 
the  shimmering  white  earth  with  its  bright  blue  shad- 
ows, were  so  bewilderingly  alike  that  one  might  well 
wonder  whether  he  was  in  heaven  or  on  earth.  The 
air  was  electric,  setting  the  blood  tingling,  and,  as 
the  sleigh  slipped  along  down  the  winding  road  that 
led  to  the  river,  Scotty  churned  up  and  down  on  the 
seat  and  could  with  difficulty  restrain  himself  from 
leaping  out  and  turning  somersaults  in  the  snow. 

The  highway  suddenly  emerged  from  a  belt  of 
pine  forest  and  descended  into  a  little  round  valley 
made  by  the  bend  in  the  river.  Here  lay  "  the  Glen," 
the  central  point  of  the  surrounding  communities. 
Scotty  grew  quieter  and  his  eyes  bigger  as  the}' 
followed  the  winding  steep  road  that  led  into  its 
depths.  There  was  the  mill  by  the  river,  giving  out 
a  strange  rumbling  sound ;  and  beside  it  the  house 
of  old  Sandy  Hamilton,  the  miller ;  and  there,  on  the 
northern  slope  of  the  river  bank,  was  Weaver  Jim- 
mie's  little  shanty,  with  the  loom  clattering  away 
inside;  and  right  at  the  corner  stood  Thompson's 
store  and  opposite  it  Peter  Nash's  tavern. 

So  many  houses  all  in  one  clearing!  Scotty  could 
scarcely  believe  his  eyes.  And  yet  the  poor  little 
place  had,  after  all,  a  greater  importance  than  the 


66  THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

child  could  imagine.  The  Glen  was  to  the  grown 
part  of  the  community  what  the  school  was  to  the 
younger  portion.  It  lay  within  the  boundaries  of 
the  four  different  settlements,  and  as  clearings  began 
to  widen  and  social  intercourse  became  easier,  it  had 
gradually  become  a  place  where  men  met  for  mu- 
tual help  or  hindrance,  as  the  case  might  be.  Here 
the  several  nationalities  mingled,  and  though  they 
did  not  realise  the  fact,  here  they  were  laying  the 
foundations  of  a  great  nation.  Such  a  vast  work 
as  this  could  scarcely  be  carried  on  without  some 
commotion;  the  chemist  must  look  for  explosions 
when  he  produces  a  strange  new  compound  from 
diverse  elements ;  and  it  was,  therefore,  no  wonder 
that  the  crucible  in  the  valley  of  the  Oro  was  often 
the  scene  of  much  boiling  and  seething.  Then  the 
tavern  came,  with  its  brain-destroying  fire,  and 
sometimes  after  harvest,  when  the  Fighting  MacDon- 
alds  and  the  belligerent  Murphys  met  before  it,  the 
noise  of  the  fray  might  be  heard  in  the  farthest-off 
clearing  of  the  Oa. 

Scotty's  eyes  rested  fearfully  on  the  tavern.  It 
was  a  common  log  building,  wider  than  the  ordinary 
ones  and  with  a  porch  in  front  and  a  lean-to  behind. 
To  the  boy  its  appearance  was  a  great  surprise 
and  some  disappointment.  Grandaddy  always  spoke 


"CAPE     CANADA"  67 

of  it  as  "  a  den  of  iniquity  " ;  and  Scotty's  fancy 
had  pictured  such  a  den  as  Daniel  had  been  cast 
into,  which  he  had  seen  many  times  in  Granny's  big 
Bible. 

He  was  rather  sorry  they  did  not  stop  there,  the 
inside  might  be  more  romantic;  but  he  soon  forgot 
it  in  the  excitement  of  other  scenes ;  for  they  went 
to  the  mill  and  Sandy  Hamilton,  all  floury  and  smil- 
ing, took  him  down  to  where  the  water  came  thunder- 
ing over  the  big  wheel;  and  then,  while  the  boys 
went  off  with  the  team,  Big  Malcolm  took  his  grand- 
son to  the  most  wonderful  place  yet,  the  store. 

This  was  the  most  important  place  in  the  Glen, 
and  the  man  who  kept  it,  James  Thompson,  or  Store 
Thompson,  as  the  neighbours  called  him,  was  the 
most  important  and  influential  member  of  the  com- 
munity. He  was  a  fine,  upright,  intelligent  man  and 
was  known  far  and  wide  for  his  learning.  He  pos- 
sessed a  vocabulary  of  polysyllables  that  never  failed 
to  confound  an  opponent  in  argument,  and  all  the 
township  could  tell  how  he  once  vanquished  a  great 
university  graduate,  who  was  visiting  Captain  Her- 
bert at  Lake  Oro.  He  was  often  identified  by  this 
illustrious  deed,  and  was  pointed  out  to  strangers 
as,  "  Store  l-nompson,  him  that  downed  the  Captain's 
college  man/' 


68  THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

Big  Malcolm  and  Store  Thompson,  though  the 
latter  was  a  Lowlander,  had  been  fast  friends  ever 
since  they  had  come  to  Canada.  They  were  slightly 
above  the  average  pioneer  in  intelligence  and  had 
many  interests  in  common;  so  for  this  reason,  as 
well  as  a  matter  of  principle,  Big  Malcolm  avoided 
the  tavern  and  spent  his  leisure  moments  with  his 
friend. 

As  they  entered,  Store  Thompson  was  busy 
weighing  out  sugar  for  a  customer,  and  glanced  up. 
He  was  a  tall  man,  with  a  kind,  intelligent  face  and 
a  high,  bland  forehead.  He  wore  steel-rimmed  spec- 
tacles, but,  when  not  reading,  had  them  pushed  up 
to  the  scant  line  of  hair  on  the  top  of  his  head,  and 
his  pale  blue  eyes  blinked  kindly  at  all  around.  He 
stopped  in  the  midst  of  his  calculations  to  welcome 
his  friends. 

"  Eh,  eh,  Malcolm,  an'  is  yon  yersel'  ?  "  he  cried 
heartily.  "  It's  jist  a  lang,  lang  time  since  Ah 
seen  ye,  man ;  aye,  an'  it's  the  wee  man  ye  hae.  It's 
a  lang  time  since  ye've  been  to  the  Glen;  jist  an 
unconscionably  lang  time;  aye,  jist  that,  jist  un- 
conscionably like ! "  He  lingered  over  the  word  as 
he  shook  hands,  and  then,  after  inquiring  for  the 
wife  and  family,  he  turned  his  attention  to  Scotty, 
remarked  upon  bi§  wonderful  growth,  and  his  sturdy 


"CAPE     CANADA"  69 

limbs,  asked  him  how  he  was  getting  on  at  school  and 
if  he  could  spell  "  phthisis." 

Scotty  hung  shyly  behind  his  grandfather,  and  as 
soon  as  the  host's  attention  was  turned  from  him  he 
escaped.  He  seated  himself  carefully  upon  a  box 
of  red  herring,  and  his  eyes  wandered  wonderingly 
around  the  shop.  It  was  a  marvellous  place  for  a 
boy  with  sharp  eyes  and  an  inquiring  mind.  Down 
one  side  ran  a  counter  made  of  smoothed  pine  boards 
and  behind  it  rose  a  row  of  shelves  reaching  to  the 
raftered  ceiling  and  containing  everything  the 
farmers  could  need,  from  the  glass  jar  of  peppermint 
drops  on  the  top  shelf  to  the  web  of  factory  cotton 
near  the  floor.  The  remaining  space  was  crammed 
with  merchandise.  There  were  boxes  of  boots,  bales 
of  cloth,  barrels  of  sugar  and  salt  and  kerosene, 
kegs  of  nails,  chests  of  tea  and  boxes  of  patent  medi- 
cines ;  and  the  combination  of  odours  was  not  the 
least  wonderful  thing  in  this  wonderful  museum. 
Nothing  escaped  Scotty's  eyes,  from  the  festoons 
of  dried  apples  suspended  from  the  dark  raftered 
ceiling  to  the  pile  of  axe-handles  on  the  floor  in  the 
corner.  He  sat  utterly  absorbed,  while  his  grand- 
father and  Store  Thompson  talked.  There  was  much 
to  tell  on  one  side,  at  least,  for  Store  Thompson  and 
the  schoolmaster  took  a  weekly  newspaper  between 


70  THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

them,  and  it  all  had  to  be  gone  over,  especially  the 
news  from  Scotland. 

Store  Thompson's  wife,  a  bright,  little  red-cheeked 
woman  came  hustling  in  to  greet  Big  Malcolm,  and 
ask  him  in  for  a  cup  of  tea.  "  Ah've  had  the  Captain 
an*  his  sister  an'  the  wee  leddy  to  denner,"  she 
whispered  proudly,  "  an'  they'll  jist  be  goin'  in  a 
minit,  an'  ye'll  come  an'  have  a  cup  o*  tea  with 
them,  jist." 

But  Big  Malcolm,  who  had  arisen  at  her  invita- 
tion, suddenly  sat  down  again.  His  face  darkened, 
and  he  stoutly  refused  the  joint  invitations  of  hus- 
band and  wife.  Then  the  lady  espied  Scotty  in  his 
corner,  and  bore  down  upon  him;  she  secured  a 
handful  of  pink  "  bull's-eyes  "  from  a  jar  behind  the 
counter,  and  slipped  them  into  his  chubby  fist,  patted 
his  curly  head  and  declared  he  was  "  jist  Callum 
over  again."  And  Scotty  smiled  up  at  her,  well 
pleased  at  being  likened  to  his  hero ;  but  when  she 
caught  his  face  between  her  hands  and  tried  to  kiss 
him,  he  dodged  successfully;  for,  now  that  he  was 
a  big  boy  and  going  to  school,  not  even  Granny 
might  kiss  him  in  public. 

When  she  had  trotted  back  to  her  guests  in  the 
house,  Scotty  caught  a  few  words  of  the  conversation 
that  aroused  his  interest. 


"CAPE     CANADA"  71 

"  Ye  hae  the  boys  in  wi*  ye  the  day,  Malcolm  ?  " 
Store  Thompson  asked,  with  a  note  of  anxiety  in 
his  voice. 

"  Yes  ?  "  Big  Malcolm  looked  up  inquiringly. 

"  Oh,  Ah  suppose  it's  jist  naething,  jist  a — a 
triviality,  like ;  but  Ah  see  there's  a  great  crood  f rae 
the  Oa,  the  day,  an'  jist  as  many  Murphy s  an' 
Connors ;  an'  Ah  heerd  a  lot  o'  wild  talk  aboot 
Fenians,  an'  the  like.  They  would  be  sayin'  Pat 
Murphy  was  a  Fenian ;  an'  that  Tarn  Caldwell  would 
be  for  sendin'  him  oot  o'  the  Glen.  Ah'm  hopin' 
there'll  be  nae  trouble." 

Big  Malcolm's  face  was  full  of  anxiety.  "  Indeed, 
I  will  be  hopin'  so  too,"  he  said  in  an  embarrassed 
tone.  "  You  will  be  knowin'  my  weakness.  I  would 
not  be  hearin'  about  it.  I  hope  the  lads " 

"  Oh,  Ah  suppose  it's  jist  naething,"  said  Store 
Thompson  reassuringly.  "  Indeed  it's  yersel'  that's 
past  all  sich  things  as  yon,  Malcolm,  never  fear." 

But  Big  Malcolm  shook  his  head;  for  years  he 
had  purposely  avoided  the  Glen,  to  be  out  of  the 
way  of  temptation;  for  the  sound  of  strife  was  to 
him  like  the  bugle  call  to  a  war  charger.  He 
fidgeted  in  his  seat  and  looked  anxiously  towards  the 
door. 

Scotty  went  over  to  the  window  and  stood  watch- 


72  THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

ing  the  crowds  of  men  come  and  go  across  the 
street. 

He  could  not  quite  make  out  what  was  going  on, 
but  there  seemed  to  be  a  great  commotion,  for  a  big 
crowd  of  men  had  suddenly  appeared  from  nowhere. 
And  there  was  Danny's  father,  and  Nancy's  father, 
apparently  having  high  words ;  and  yes,  there  was 
Callum  right  in  the  centre  of  the  seething  mass. 

There  were  mingled  cries  of  "  Popery  "  and  "  Fe- 
nians "  and  "  Orangemen."  Then  suddenly  above 
the  noise  there  came  a  roar,  "  The  Oa !  The  Oa ! 
MacDonald !  MacDonald !  " 

"  Grandaddy !  oh,  Grandaddy ! "  cried  Scotty 
shrilly,  "  they're  killin'  Callum,  they're  killin'  Rory !  " 

At  the  first  sound  of  the  MacDonalds'  battle-cry 
Big  Malcolm  raised  his  head  like  a  stag  who  has 
heard  a  challenge,  and,  at  the  boy's  cry,  he  cleared 
the  intervening  space  with  one  bound,  flung  open 
the  door  and  shot  out  into  the  street. 

"  Malcolm,  Malcolm ! "  cried  Store  Thompson  in 
dismay,  but  Big  Malcolm  had  heard  the  call  to  arms 
and  nothing  in  the  township  of  Oro  could  hold  him 
back. 

Scotty  sprang  to  follow  him,  but  Store  Thompson 
closed  the  door,  and  his  wife,  who  had  re-entered,  put 
her  arms  about  the  boy  and  drew  him  back. 


"CAPE     CANADA"  73 

"  Ye  mustna  gang  oot  there,  ma  lad,"  said  the 
storekeeper.  "  Yon's  no  place  for  a  child ;  aye," 
he  added,  "  an'  no  place  for  yer  grandfather 
either ! " 

"  Lemme  go ! "  shouted  Scotty,  struggling  equally 
with  his  captor  and  his  sobs.  "  They — 're — killin' 
— Rory  !  Lemme  go  !  " 

"  Yer  Grandaddy  said  ye  were  to  bide  here,  laddie, 
mindye !  "  cried  Store  Thompson's  wife  soothingly. 

At  the  reminder  of  his  grandfather's  commands 
Scotty  collapsed.  He  retired  to  the  window  once 
more,  bathed  in  tears  of  helpless  rage.  But  another 
shout  from  the  MacDonalds  sent  him  flying  again, 
to  the  door,  where  he  once  more  encountered  the 
ample  skirts  of  his  keeper. 

"  Ah'd  niver  look  Marget  Malcolm  in  the  face 
again,  Jeames,  if  onything  happened  the  bairn,"  she 
cried,  struggling  with  Scotty's  sturdy  muscles.  "  He 
maun  jist  bide!  " 

"  What  in  heaven's  name  is  the  matter  with  that 
child  ?  "  demanded  a  laughing  voice  from  the  rear 
of  the  shop.  "  Has  he  an  attack  of  spasms  ?  " 

Scotty  stopped  struggling  and  looked  up.  In 
his  absorption  over  the  battle  outside  he  had  not 
noticed  that  three  strangers  had  entered  the  shop 
with  Store  Thompson's  wife,  and  he  drew  back 


74  THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

abashed.  The  speaker  was  a  short,  well-built  man 
under  middle  age,  with  an  air  and  appearance  quite 
different  from  the  rough  exterior  of  Scotty's  own 
people.  There  was  a  look  of  command  in  his  merry 
blue  eyes  and  an  air  of  superiority  in  his  straight, 
trim  figure,  that  impressed  the  child.  The  other  two 
strangers  stood  back  by  the  stove;  one,  a  tall  lady, 
the  rustle  of  whose  black  silk  dress  gave  Scotty  a 
feeling  of  awe,  the  other  a  tiny  girl,  so  wrapped  up  in 
furs  and  shawls  that  he  could  see  nothing  of  her,  ex- 
cept a  bunch  of  golden  curls. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  the  confounded  little 
fire-eater?"  asked  the  man,  coming  forward. 

"  It's  all  his  kin  that's  in  yon  fecht  oot  by,  sir," 
said  Store  Thompson's  wife  apologetically.  "  The 
puir  wee  mannie !  " 

"  Oh,  I  see ;  he's  starting  early.  I  never  come  to 
the  Glen  but  you  entertain  me  with  a  battle,  James. 
A  bad  crowd,  those  fellows  from  the  Flats.  What's 
your  name,  youngster  ?  Murphy,  eh  ?  " 

"  NO ! "  Scotty  shouted  the  refutation  in  indig- 
nant horror.  This  was  worse  than  being  English! 
"It  willbeMacDonald!" 

"  Oh,  by  Jove,  one  of  the  Fighting  MacDonalds !  " 
The  man  burst  into  a  hearty  laugh.  "  I  might  have 
known." 


"CAPE     CANADA"  75 

"  But  yon's  not  yer  real  name,  laddie,"  said  Store 
Thompson's  wife.  "  Tell  Captain  Herbert  yer  name ; 
it's  jist  a  fine  one.  He's  Big  Malcolm  MacDonald's 
grandson,  Captain,  but  his  faether  was  an  English 
gentleman,  like  yersel,  an'  his  mither  was  a  bonny, 
bonny  bit  lassie ;  aye,  an'  puir  Marget  lost  her." 

The  man  was  gazing  down  at  the  boy  absorbedly. 
"  What's  his  name  ?  "  he  demanded  sharply.  But 
Scotty  stood  silent  and  scowling.  Confess  his  dis- 
grace to  this  man  whom  he  knew  Granddaddy  de- 
spised? Never! 

"  His  patronymic,"  said  Store  Thompson  cere- 
moniously, "  is  Stanwell,  Captain ;  and  his  baptismal 
name  is  jist  the  same  as  his  father's  was,  Ralph 
Everett ;  Ralph  Everett  Stanwell !  " 

When  Store  Thompson  delivered  himself  of  any 
such  high-sounding  speech  he  was  always  rewarded 
by  signs  of  a  deep  impression  made  upon  his  hearers. 
He  had  come  to  look  for  such  results ;  but  he  wras 
totally  unprepared  for  the  expression  of  aghast  won- 
der that  his  words  produced  in  the  face  of  Captain 
Herbert. 

"Stanwell!"  he  cried,  "Ralph  Stanwell!"  He 
glanced  hurriedly  at  the  two  standing  at  the  other 
end  of  the  shop  and  an  expression  of  relief  passed 
over  his  face  when  he  saw  the  tall  lady  was  not 


76  THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

attending.  "  It  can't  be !  "  he  said,  lowering  his  tone, 
"  Captain  Stan  well's  child  died  with  the  parents !  " 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Store  Thompson  wonderingly. 
"  Big  Malcolm  an'  his  son  brought  him  from  Toronto 
when  he  was  jist  an  infant." 

The  man  still  stood  gazing  down  at  the  boy. 
Scotty's  face  was  dark  with  anger.  Store  Thomp- 
son, who  pretended  to  be  his  grandfather's  friend, 
to  publish  his  disgrace  before  these  strangers !  It 
was  unbearable !  "  I'll  not  be  English,"  he  muttered. 
"I'll  jist  be  Scotch,  an'  my  name's  MacDonald!" 
He  clenched  his  fists  and  wagged  his  curly  head 
threateningly.  "  He  must  be  right,"  said  the  man 
eagerly.  "  He  should  certainly  know." 

Store  Thompson  shook  his  head  smilingly.  "  He 
lives  in  the  Oa,  sir,"  he  confided  in  a  low  tone,  "  an' 
he  wants  to  be  a  MacDonald.  But  yon's  his  name, 
nevertheless !  " 

Captain  Herbert  turned  away  abruptly,  as  though 
he  had  not  heard.  "  Eleanor,  I  shall  be  ready  almost 
immediately,"  he  said  to  the  lady  in  the  silk  gown, 
and,  with  a  hasty  good-bye,  he  stepped  outside,  Store 
Thompson  following.  Scotty  slipped  out  behind 
them;  the  fight  was  over,  the  Murphys  and  their 
friends  were  evidently  retreating.  He  could  see  his 
grandfather's  tall,  commanding  form  in  the  midst 


"CAPE     CANADA"  77 

of  a  victorious  crowd.  He  drew  a  great  breath  of 
relief.  As  he  stood  gazing  proudly  at  them,  he  felt 
his  hand  touched  gently  by  little,  soft,  gloved  fin- 
gers. He  wheeled  round  to  find  a  pair  of  big,  blue 
eyes  looking  at  him  from  out  of  the  coquettish  rim 
of  a  fur-trimmed  hood.  The  eyes  were  very  sympa- 
thetic. "  I'm  Scotch,  too,"  came  in  a  whisper  from 
inside  the  wrappings,  "  an'  it's  nice  to  be  Scotch, 
isn't  it?  " 

Scotty's  heart  opened  immediately ;  here  was  some- 
one who  evidently  believed  in  him. 

"  But — but,  won't  you  be  Captain  Herbert's  little 
girl?  "  he  asked,  wonderingly. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered  with  a  baby-lisp,  that  made 
him  feel  very  big  and  superior.  "  He's  my  uncle 
Walter;  but  my  mamma  was  Scotch,  an'  my  name's 
Isabel  Douglas  Herbert,  an'  Uncle  Walter  says  I'm 
his  Scotch  lassie !  " 

"  Oh ! "  Scotty  looked  at  her  with  new  interest. 
"  An'  you're  Kirsty  John's  little  girl,  too,  ain't 

you?" 

"  Yes,"  she  cried  delightedly.  "  Do  you  know 
Kirsty?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Oh,  an'  Gran'mamma  MacDonald?  An'  Weaver 
Jimmie?" 


78  THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

"Oh,  yes!" 

"  I  love  Jimmie ;  he  tells  lovely  stories  when  I 
go  to  see  Kirsty,  'bout  fairies,  an' — an'  everything. 
Do  you  know  any  stories  ?  " 

A  silken  rustle  in  the  doorway  made  Scotty  draw 
back.  "  Come,  Isabel,"  said  the  tall  lady.  She  was 
a  very  pale  lady,  with  a  haughty,  weary  look  in  her 
eyes ;  and  Scotty  wondered  how  the  little  girl  could 
catch  hold  of  that  silk  dress  so  fearlessly. 

"  Goo-bye,"  she  said,  pausing  a  moment.  "  Goo- 
bye,  little  boy."  She  poked  the  fur-lined  hood  very 
close  to  his  face,  and  Scotty  drew  back  in  alarm  for 
fear  she  might  be  going  to  kiss  him.  The  little  girl 
looked  disappointed,  nevertheless  she  smiled  radiantly. 
"  I  like  you,"  she  whispered,  "  an'  I'm  comin'  to  visit 
you  next  time  I  go  to  Kirsty's ;  goo-bye !  " 

She  danced  off  towards  the  sleigh,  and  was  bundled 
in  among  the  warm  robes.  She  waved  her  hand  to 
Scotty  as  they  dashed  away,  and  turned  back  to 
gaze  at  him  standing  on  the  step. 

"  Man,"  said  Store  Thompson,  stamping  the  snow 
from  his  feet  as  he  entered,  "  Ah  niver  saw  the  Cap- 
tain act  like  yon  before.  He  was  jist, — aye,  he 
was  jist  what  Ah  would  call  inimical;  aye,  jist  in- 
imical, like ! " 

Store    Thompson   was    more    perturbed    over    the 


"CAPE     CANADA"  79 

hearty  Captain's  strange  behaviour  than  he  was  over 
the  commotion  that  had  just  taken  place  at  his  door. 
Such  affairs  were  of  too  frequent  occurrence  to  call 
for  comment.  But  when  Big  Malcolm  returned  for 
Scotty,  the  fierce  heat  of  the  conflict  still  blazed  in 
his  eyes  and  his  friend  suddenly  remembered  what 
had  happened. 

"  Eh,  Malcolm,  Malcolm,  Ah'm  sorry  for  this ! " 
he  cried.  "  These  fichts  are  no  work  for  a  Chreestian 
man!" 

"  And  would  I  be  sitting  here,  James  Thompson, 
an'  see  that  piece  o'  Popish  iniquity  kill  my  son  ?  " 
demanded  Big  Malcolm  fiercely. 

Store  Thompson  held  up  his  hands.  "  What, 
what  ?  "  he  cried,  "  would  it  be  the  Murphys  and  the 
MacDonalds  again  ?  " 

"  It  was  a  Fenian  raid,  James ! "  shouted  Tom 
Caldwell,  coming  up  to  the  sleigh,  with  a  proud  swag- 
ger, "  an'  Malcolm  here  was  helpin'  us  Orangemen 
put  it  down,  sure !  " 

Weaver  Jimmie,  his  diffidence  all  vanished,  threw 
his  cap  into  the  air  and  shouted  his  old  shibboleth, 
"  They  may  take  Canady,  but  they'll  not  be  taking 
Oro!" 

"  The  Orangemen  '11  kape  Canada ! "  cried  Tom 
Caldwell  reassuringly. 


80  THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

"  Hoh,  him  an'  his  *  kape  Canada,' "  cried  Callum 
Fiach  in  disgust,  as  he  pitched  himself  into  the  sleigh. 
"  Let's  get  out  o'  this  !  " 

"  Eh,  eh !  "  cried  Store  Thompson,  standing  in  the 
doorway  to  see  them  depart,  "  ye  MacDonalds  are 
aye  too  ready  wi'  the  neeves ! " 

Big  Malcolm  took  the  reins  and  drove  away  with- 
out another  word.  The  joy  of  battle  was  always 
succeeded  by  a  season  of  depression.  His  old  friend's 
reproof  had  already  begun  to  work  repentance  in  his 
breast. 

The  homeward  drive  was  silent  and  gloomy.  Even 
Callum  forbore  to  talk;  for  he  was  uncomfortably 
conscious  that  he  had  had  more  to  do  with  setting 
the  Orangemen  and  the  Catholics  against  each  other 
than  he  would  like  Big  Malcolm  to  know.  He  had 
not  foreseen  that  all  the  MacDonalds  would  plunge 
into  it,  and  his  father  with  them,  and  was  rather 
uneasy  at  the  havoc  he  had  caused.  For  this  would 
bring  sorrow  upon  the  mother  at  home. 

But  Scotty  could  not  be  silent,  he  was  alive  with 
curiosity;  and,  taking  advantage  of  his  grand- 
father's gloomy  absorption,  he  crept  out  from  be- 
tween the  two  on  the  front  seat,  and  got  close  to  the 
source  of  all  knowledge,  Hamish. 

He  overflowed  with  questions,    Why  should  the 


"CAPE     CANADA"  81 

MacDonalds  be  helping  Orangemen?  And  hadn't 
Hash  Tucker's  father  and  a  lot  more  from  the  Tenth 
been  on  their  side,  too?  And  how  in  the  name  of 
all  nationalities  did  it  happen  that  the  Caldwells  and 
the  Tuckers  came  to  be  fighting  together  against 
the  Murphy s?  And  weren't  Orangemen  far  worse 
than  Fenians,  anyway? 

The  confusion  in  Scotty's  mind  was  like  that  which 
befell  the  builders  of  the  Tower  of  Babel ;  and  for 
once  Hamish  failed  to  satisfy  him.  He  seemed  rather 
ashamed  of  the  fact  that  they  had  helped  a  Caldwell 
in  battle,  and  was  rather  inclined  to  drop  the  subject. 

That  evening  at  home  was  something  new  to 
Scotty.  A  gloomy  silence  pervaded  the  place,  and 
there  was  a  look  in  Granny's  eyes  that  made  the 
boy  want  to  put  his  head  into  her  lap  and  cry. 
There  were  no  prayers  before  they  retired,  either; 
there  always  came  a  stage  in  Big  Malcolm's  re- 
pentence  which  consisted  almost  entirely  of  religious 
exercises,  but  that  was  not  yet. 

Scotty  felt  vaguely  that  there  was  something  ter- 
ribly wrong,  for  the  boys,  even  Hamish,  went  off 
after  supper,  and  Old  Farquhar  did  not  sing  his  ac- 
customed song  before  retiring.  And  when  Scotty 
went  up  to  bed  in  the  loft  he  left  Granny  praying 
by  the  bed  in  the  corner,  and  he  could  hear  the  steady 


82  THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

tramp,  tramp  of  his  grandfather's  feet  up  and  down 
in  the  snow  outside.  He  half  woke  late  in  the  night 
and  found  that  Hamish  was  beside  him;  the  prob- 
lems of  the  day  were  still  troubling  his  dreams. 

"  Hamish,"  he  whispered,  "  where's  Cape  Can- 
ady?" 

"  What  ?  "  growled  Hamish  sleepily. 

"  Where's  Cape  Canady  ?  Tom  Caldwell  said 
somethin'  about  it,  an'  the  Master  learned  the  Fourth 
Class  all  about  capes  yesterday,  an'  he  wouldn't  be 
saying  anything  about  that  one !  " 

But  Hamish  was  snoring ;  and  outside  the  steady 
tramp,  tramp  of  feet  went  up  and  down  in  the 
snow. 


THE   REFORMATION 

O  strong  hearts,  guarding  the  birthright  of  our  glory, 

Worth  your  best  blood  this  heritage  that  ye  guard! 
These  mighty  streams  resplendent  with  our  story, 

These   iron   coasts  by   rage  of  seas   un jarred — • 
What  fields  of  peace  these  bulwarks  will  secure! 

What  vales  of  plenty  these  calm  floods  supply! 
Shall  not  our  love  this  rough,  sweet  land  make  sure, 

Her  bounds  preserve  inviolate,  though  we  die? 

— C.  G.  D.  ROBERTS. 

THE  fathers  of  the  Scottish  settlement  were 
gathered  about  the  stove  in  Store  Thomp- 
son's shop.     This  emporium  was  a  respect- 
able rival  of  Pete  Nash's  tavern  across  the  way.  Any- 
one, weary  of  the  noise  and  wrangling  which  char- 
acterised that  lively  establishment,  might  step  across 
to  Store  Thompson's  haven  and  find  rest  and  quiet, 
a  never-failing  hospitality  and  a  much  better  social 
atmosphere.     To-night  the  company  represented  the 
best  the  settlement  could  produce,  several  of  the  Mac- 
Donalds  and  a  few  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  Glen. 
Big  Malcolm  was  among  them.     It  was  his  first 
83 


84  THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

visit  to  the  Glen  since  the  day  of  his  disgrace,  and 
he  had  not  yet  quite  recovered  his  old  genial  spirits. 

One  small  lamp  burned  dimly  on  the  counter  and 
the  forms  of  boxes  and  barrels  loomed  up  fantas- 
tically in  shadowy  corners.  In  the  circle  about  the 
stove  the  men's  faces  shone  out  spectrally  from  the 
cloud  of  smoke  produced  by  some  half-dozen  pipes. 

As  usual,  Store  Thompson  was  taking  the  lead 
in  the  conversation.  He  stood  leaning  over  the  coun- 
ter in  the  little  ring  of  light,  his  spectacles  pushed 
up  on  his  benign-looking  forehead,  his  finger-tips 
brought  carefully  together.  In  company  with  the 
schoolmaster,  Store  Thompson  had  begun  his  win- 
ter's course  of  reading  and  was  more  than  usually 
oratorical. 

"  Aye,"  he  was  saying,  "  a  dictionary  *s  a  graund 
institution;  aye,  jist  a  graund  institution,  like. 
When  me  an'  the  master  now  meets  a  word  we  dinna 
ken,  we  jist  run  him  doon  in  the  dictionary,  an'  there 
he  is,  ye  see !  " 

"  Oh,  books  will  be  fine  things,"  said  Big  Mal- 
colm, "  but  that  Hamish  of  ours  will  jist  be  no  use 
when  he  will  be  getting  his  nose  into  one,  whatever. 
And  he  will  be  making  the  wee  man  jist  as  bad.  Eh, 
it's  him  that'll  make  the  reader ! "  His  eyes  shone 
as  they  always  did  at  any  mention  of  his  grandson. 


THE     REFORMATION  85 

"  Aye,  Hamish  is  the  man  for  the  books ! "  cried 
Store  Thompson  enthusiastically.  "  How  is  he  get- 
tin'  on  wi'  Ivanhoe?  " 

"  Och,  he  would  be  finishing  it  the  night  after  he 
brought  it  home,  indeed;  and  now  the  little  upstart 
will  be  trying  his  hand  at  it  whatever." 

"  Feenishin'  it  in  twa  nichts ! "  cried  Store  Thomp- 
son, aghast  at  such  extravagance.  "  Hut,  tut !  yon's 
no  way  to  use  a  book.  When  me  an'  the  wife  read 
Ivanhoe  last  winter,  we  jist  read  a  wee  bit  at  a  time 
for  fear  it  wouldna  last ;  it  wes  that  interestin'.  Aye, 
books  is  too  scarce  to  be  used  yon  way." 

"  And  what  will  you  and  the  master  be  reading, 
this  winter,  James  ? "  inquired  Long  Lauchie,  who 
had  just  returned  from  one  of  his  mental  excursions. 

Store  Thompson's  face  beamed.  "  Eh,  it's  a 
graund  book  this  time,  Lauchie,  jist  an  Astronomy, 
like." 

"  Eh,  losh,  an'  what  would  it  be  about?  " 

"  All  aboot  the  stars,  aye  an'  the  moon  an'  the 
constellations,  like." 

"  Eh,  eh  !  "  Long  Lauchie  was  very  much  impressed. 
"  And  would  it  be  telling  about  the  comets,  what- 
ever? " 

Store  Thompson  stood  erect  and  put  his  finger 
tips  together. 


86  THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

"  A  comet,"  he  declared  solemnly,  "  a  comet, 
Lauchlan,  so  far  as  Ah  can  mak'  oot  frae  the  book, 
is  jist  naething  more  nor  less  than  an  indestructible, 
incomprehensible  combustion  o'  matter;  aye,  jist  that, 
like." 

There  was  an  impressive  silence.  When  Store 
Thompson  took  his  flights  through  the  vast  spaces 
of  knowledge  he  was  always  hard  to  follow,  but  when 
he  soared  to  the  heights  of  astronomy  the  district 
fathers  felt  him  to  be  unapproachable. 

" '  Seek  Him  that  maketh  the  seven  stars  and 
Orion.' "  The  silence  was  broken  by  a  deep,  rolling 
voice;  a  voice  so  powerful  that  even  when  softened, 
as  it  now  was,  it  gave  the  impression  of  vast  possibili- 
ties. The  speaker  was  like  his  voice,  huge  and  strong ; 
the  thick,  waving  hair  covering  his  massive  head, 
and  his  bushy  beard  were  a  dark  iron-grey,  which, 
with  his  strong  features  and  bristling  eyebrows,  gave 
him  the  appearance  of  a  man  carved  from  iron.  It 
was  Praying  Donald,  the  earliest  pioneer  of  the  Oa, 
and  the  most  pious  man  in  many  settlements. 

" '  Seek  Him  that  maketh  the  seven  stars  and 
Orion,'  that  will  be  the  word  of  the  Holy  Book, 
and  it  will  be  a  poor  thing  to  be  seeking  the  stars 
finst." 

Every  eye  was  turned  upon  the  speaker.    Praying 


THE     REFORMATION  87 

Donald  was  a  man  who  spoke  seldom,  but  when  he  did 
everyone  listened. 

"  Yes,  indeed,  it  is  the  Word  of  Jehovah  we  should 
be  reading,"  he  continued,  "  for  I  would  be  reading 
last  night,  and  the  Lord  would  be  speaking  to  me 
through  the  Word,  and  it  was,  '  Blow  ye  the  trum- 
pet in  Zion.  .  .  .  Let  all  the  inhabitants  of  the 
land  tremble,  for  the  day  of  the  Lord  cometh,  for  it 
is  nigh  at  hand;  a  day  of  darkness  and  gloominess 
and  of  thick  darkness.'  And  it  will  be  this  land 
that  it  will  be  coming  upon.  For  there  will  be  the 
drink  and  the  fighting,  and  there  will  be  no  minister, 
and  no  house  of  the  Lord,  for  we  will  be  in  the  gall 
of  bitterness  and  in  the  bonds  of  iniquity. 

"  Yes,  we  must  be  praying,  praying  night  and 
day,  and  maybe  that  the  Lord  in  His  mercy  will  be 
sending  us  a  minister;  for  if  He  will  not  be  visit- 
ing us  in  His  mercy,  He  will  be  coming  in  His 
wrath,  and  who  shall  stand  in  the  day  of  His  judg- 
ment? " 

Weaver  Jimmie  flung  one  leg  over  the  other  nerv- 
ously. Long  Lauchie  sighed,  and  Store  Thompson 
murmured,  "  Undeniable,  undeniable."  But  Big  Mal- 
colm sat  staring  at  the  speaker  as  if  fascinated. 
Praying  Donald's  life  of  stern  piety,  and  his  knowl- 
edge of  the  laws  governing  human  action,  had  often 


88  THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

enabled  him  to  foresee  events,  and  had  given  him  the 
reputation  of  a  prophet.  The  memory  of  the  scene 
in  which  he  had  so  lately  taken  part  came  over  Big 
Malcolm  with  overwhelming  force. 

"  It  is  the  true  word,"  he  whispered,  as  though 
smitten  with  a  sudden  fear.  "  Och,  and  it  will  be 
Malcolm  MacDonald  that  will  be  visited  in  wrath  for 
his  sins,  whatever ! ' 

"  Ye're  richt,  Donald,"  said  Store  Thompson,  at 
length,  "  what  wi'  the  whuskey  an'  the  wild  goin's 
on  this  place  is  jist  in  a  bad  state.  But  it's  thae 
Eerish.  Man,"  he  continued  emphatically,  "  thae 
Eerish,  whether  Catholic  or  Protestant,  are  jist  a 
menace  to  the  country,  aye,  jist  yon,  jist  a  menace, 
like!" 

"  It  is  the  Oa  that  will  be  as  bad  as  the  Flats," 
said  Praying  Donald  relentlessly.  "  They  will  be 
forsaking  their  God  and  be  following  after  their  own 
evil  desires ! " 

Long  Lauchie  suddenly  opened  his  eyes.  He  was 
in  the  habit  of  seizing  upon  a  remark  and  retiring 
with  it  slowly,  repeating  it  over  and  over  in  a  les- 
sening whisper  until  he  was  lost  in  the  echoing  cav- 
erns of  imagination,  and  was  wont  to  emerge  from 
these  absent  fits  suddenly  with  the  air  of  a  diver  who 
comes  to  the  surface  with  a  great  treasure.  He 


THE     REFORMATION  89 

came  to  life  at  this  moment,  his  eyes  wide  open,  his 
manner  alert :  "  Eh,  it  will  be  a  fulfilment  o'  the 
prophecy  o'  Jeremiah,  '  Out  of  the  north  an  evil  shall 
break  forth  upon  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  land.' 
Eh,  eh,  out  o'  the  north — the  north — it  would  per- 
haps be  meaning  the  Oa,"  he  whispered  fearfully  to 

Weaver  Jimmie.  "  Out  of  the  north — the  north " 

His  voice  gradually  died  away  and  he  was  lost  in 
meditation. 

"  This  place  is  not  like  the  auld  land,"  said  old 
Sandy  Hamilton,  moodily.  "  Man,  we  werna  both- 
ered wi'  ony  Fenians,  nor  Orangemen,  nor  sik  like 
there ! " 

"  Times'll  be  better  now  the  Murphys  know  their 
place,"  said  Weaver  Jimmie  confidently,  pitching  one 
leg  over  the  other.  "  Callum  led  a  fine  charge.  The 
Fenians  may  take  Canady,  but  they'll  not " 

"  Hooch ! "  Big  Malcolm  broke  in  fiercely. 
Weaver  Jimmie  did  not  properly  belong  either  by 
age  or  sentiments  to  this  gathering,  and  his  remark 
regarding  Callum  was  very  much  out  of  place.  "  Yon 
son  o'  mine  will  jist  be  a  breeder  o'  mischief  in  this 
place,  James  MacDonald ! "  he  cried,  "  an'  it's  little 
check  you  will  be  on  him,  whatever.  It  is  high  time, 
indeed,  that  ye  were  both  settlin'  down  an'  stoppin* 
such  doings !  But  och,  och,"  he  added  with  a  sudden 


90  THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

change  of  tone,  "  it  is  myself  will  be  the  worst  of  them 
all." 

Weaver  Jimmie  heaved  a  sentimental  sigh.  "  It 
will  not  be  any  fault  of  mine  that  I  will  not  be  set- 
tled down,"  he  muttered  gloomily. 

Praying  Donald's  rumbling  voice  had  arisen  again. 
"  Yes,  oh  yes,  the  evil  will  be  growing ;  and  the 
Judge  will  be  coming  in  His  wrath  and  we  will  jist 
be  like  Sodom  and  Gomorrah ! " 

"  Oh,  indeed,"  broke  in  Store  Thompson,  "  the 
good  Lord  is  slow  to  anger  and  of  great  mercy,  Don- 
ald, ye  mind !  " 

"  Mercy  !  "  roared  Praying  Donald.  "  Eh,  James, 
do  not  be  deceiving  yourselves !  He  will  be  just.  We 
must  be  reaping  what  we  sow.  This  place  is  sowing 
the  wind  and  it  will  be  reaping  the  whirlwind.  *  For 
I  the  Lord  thy  God  am  a  jealous  God,  visiting  the 
iniquity  of  the  fathers  upon  the  children  unto  the 
third  and  fourth  generation  of  them  that  hate  me.'  ' 

Long  Lauchie  came  suddenly  to  the  surface,  this 
time  with  a  precious  pearl :  "  And  showing  mercy 
unto  thousands,"  he  continued  softly.  "  Oh,  yes,  in- 
deed and  indeed,  unto  thousands,  mercy  unto  thou- 
sands !  "  He  sank  again  into  the  ocean  of  his  imagi- 
nation, and  the  tide  of  conversation  flowed  over  him 
unheeded. 


THE     REFORMATION  91 

"  *  Visiting  the  sins  of  the  father  upon  the  chil- 
dren,' "  repeated  Big  Malcolm  bitterly.  He  dropped 
his  head  into  his  hands  and  groaned. 

There  was  a  long  silence.  These  men  were  facing 
a  great  problem  in  the  building  up  of  this  new  nation, 
one  which  presented  graver  difficulties  than  they  had 
met  even  in  the  toil  and  stress  of  breaking  the  for- 
est. In  the  early  days  the  social  problem  had  not 
arisen ;  the  settler  had  been  too  busy  to  permit  of 
its  troubling  him.  He  needed  all  his  time  and  strength 
to  battle  with  this  new  land  and  compel  her  to  give 
him  his  due  of  bread  and  shelter.  But  now,  the 
stern  young  stepmother  was  yielding  to  those  whom 
she  recognised  as  worthy  to  be  her  sons,  and  was  re- 
warding them  with  wider  pasture-lands  and  waving 
fields  of  grain.  Now  the  pioneer  found  time  to  draw 
breath  and  look  about  him.  All  through  the  years  of 
weary  hardship,  homesickness  for  the  old  land  had 
been  heavy  on  his  heart  and  his  love  for  it  had  grown. 
And  now,  with  some  time  for  sentiment  and  reflection, 
he  found  his  thoughts  turning  thither ;  old  loves  were 
re-awakened,  old  traditions  revived,  old  enmities 
fanned  into  flame.  The  still  wild  stretches  of  forest 
called  on  all  sides  for  wild,  free  action;  the  wind 
swept  down  over  the  Oro  hills,  straight  from  the  vast 
expanse  of  the  Great  Lakes,  setting  the  blood  leap- 


92  THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

ing  for  vigorous  action.  Little  wonder,  then,  that 
in  their  first  days  of  leisure  men  should  go  a  few  steps 
farther  back  towards  the  savage  stage  from  which 
we  are  all  such  a  short  distance  removed.  And  little 
wonder,  too,  that  the  wiser  ones  trembled  lest  their 
new  land  of  promise,  now  so  smiling,  so  prodigal 
of  her  favours,  might  be  scarred  with  the  marks  of 
evil. 

And  so,  these  simple  seers,  these  men,  ignorant 
in  the  world's  wisdom,  but  many  of  them  secure  in 
the  knowledge  of  One,  whom  to  know  is  life  eternal, 
turned  in  their  fear  and  perplexity  to  the  fountain- 
head  of  righteousness. 

"  We  must  be  having  a  prayer  meeting,  lads,"  said 
Praying  Donald  at  length.  "  We  could  be  having 
them  all  this  winter,  once  a  week,  and  maybe  the  good 
Lord  will  be  sending  us  a  minister." 

"  Eh,  if  we  could  get  a  meenister  like  auld  Angus 
McGregor!  "  said  Store  Thompson.  "  Ah  jist  heerd 
him  once,  but  it  was  a  veesitation,  aye,  jist  a  veesita- 
tion,  like.  D'ye  mind  yon  sermon,  Lauchie,  on  *  Si- 
mon Peter,  lovest  thou  me  '  ?  " 

Long  Lauchie  awoke  from  his  reverie  with  a  start. 
The  mention  of  the  great  Scottish  preacher  set  going 
a  train  of  tender  memories.  "  Eh,  Mr.  McGregor !  " 
he  cried,  "  Mr.  McGregor, — eh,  there  will  not  be 


THE     REFORMATION  93 

such  men  nowadays  I  will  be  fearing.  He  was  the 
man  of  God,  indeed — yes — oh,  yes " 

And  as  he  faded  away  into  the  distance,  the  others 
made  the  necessary  arrangements.  They  would  hold 
a  series  of  prayer  meetings  in  the  Oa  and  the  Glen 
to  last  during  the  winter.  Store  Thompson  made 
a  feeble  suggestion  that  they  might  join  the  Metho- 
dists, Tom  Caldwell's  faction  in  the  Flats.  For  Tom, 
who  was  as  active  at  wrestling  in  prayer  as  in  any 
other  sphere,  in  company  with  the  population  of  the 
Tenth,  had  secured  the  services  of  a  primitive  Metho- 
dist preacher,  and  was  holding  nightly  meetings  in 
the  schoolhouse,  where  much  good  was  done.  But 
the  noisy  devotions  of  the  Flats  met  with  little  favour 
in  the  sight  of  the  Oa.  Praying  Donald,  conscious 
of  the  purity  of  their  motive,  had  visited  the  Metho- 
dists once,  and  had  now  little  to  say  in  commendation. 

"  They  will  be  doing  the  best  they  know,  James," 
he  declared,  "  but  the  Lord  will  be  taking  no  pleas- 
ure in  tumult  and  confusion,  and  we  will  jist  be 
holding  our  meetings  at  the  neighbours'  houses, 
whatever." 

And  so  the  first  meeting  was  arranged  to  be  held 
at  Long  Lauchie's,  and,  before  parting,  the  little 
group  knelt  about  the  boxes  and  bales,  and  in  low, 
solemn  tones  like  the  breaking  of  waves  on  a  rocky 


94  THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

shore,  Praying  Donald  besought  the  Eternal  Father 
for  a  blessing  on  this  new  land  and  an  instilling  of 
the  righteousness  that  exalteth  a  nation. 

The  news  of  the  meeting  was  spread  through  the 
community,  chiefly  by  Weaver  Jimmie;  and  was  re- 
ceived with  much  thankfulness  by  most  of  the  people, 
who  had  been  longing  all  the  days  of  their  exile  for 
something  resembling  the  church  services  of  the  old 
land. 

When  the  night  of  the  first  meeting  arrived,  Scotty 
was  in  a  state  of  carefully  subdued  excitement.  He 
knew  by  his  grandfather's  manner  that  the  occasion 
was  one  calling  for  solemnity  of  demeanour;  but  he 
could  not  help  feeling  very  much  worked  up  over 
the  thought  of  going  away  from  home  after  dark; 
it  made  one  feel  almost  as  big  and  important  as 
Callum.  He  could  scarcely  believe  his  senses  when 
they  covered  the  fire,  closed  the  door  and  all  drove 
away  in  the  big  sleigh.  Granny  sat  on  the  front  seat 
beside  Grandaddy,  another  strange  circumstance, 
for  Granny  never  went  anywhere  either  by  day  or 
by  night,  except  when  a  neighbour  was  sick.  Scotty 
further  emphasised  his  grown-up  feeling  by  sitting 
behind  with  the  boys ;  they  conversed  in  low  tones, 
and  Callum  said  he'd  "  a  good  mind  to  skedaddle 
off  into  the  bush."  But  they  were  unusually  quiet. 


THE     REFORMATION  95 

Rory  even  forbore  to  whistle,  and  the  boy  found  he 
had  to  amuse  himself  by  peering  into  the  silent  black- 
ness of  the  pine  forest,  or  gazing  up  at  the  strip  of 
clear  star-spangled  heavens  that  shone  between  the 
lines  of  trees. 

Long  Lauchie's  house,  which  stood  on  a  hill  at  the 
end  of  a  very  long  lane,  was  brightly  lighted  and 
very  silent.  This  last  fact  was  worthy  of  note,  for 
what  with  the  misdemeanours  of  Long  Lauchie's  own 
sons,  and  the  assistance  they  received  from  Big  Mal- 
colm's boys,  the  place  had  long  been  a  rival  of  Pete 
Nash's  establishment  for  noise,  though,  happily,  it 
was  of  a  much  more  innocent  character. 

The  room  they  entered,  kitchen,  dining-room  and 
living-room,  was  furnished,  like  all  the  pioneers' 
homes,  with  the  plainest  necessities ;  but  Long 
Lauchie's  family  had  grown-up  girls  in  it,  and  the 
place  showed  the  touch  of  their  fingers ;  a  few  bright 
rugs  on  the  floor,  and  on  the  wall  some  pictures  in 
homemade  frames.  Then  there  were  some  oil  lamps, 
replacing  the  candles,  and  the  house  was  so  far  in 
the  van  of  progress  as  to  possess  a  stove,  which  added 
not  a  little  to  the  comfort,  and  detracted  much  from 
the  picturesqueness,  of  the  room. 

The  family  consisted  of  a  troop  of  boys  and  girls, 
all  ages  and  sizes,  from  big,  six-foot  Hector  to  little 


96  THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

tangle-haired  Betty.  They  were  already  gathered, 
and  several  of  the  neighbours'  families  had  arrived 
and  were  seated  on  the  improvised  benches  along  the 
wall.  There  were  Praying  Donald's  family,  Store 
Thompson  and  his  wife,  several  others  representative 
of  the  Oa  and  the  Glen,  and,  of  course,  Weaver 
Jimmie. 

Jimmie's  face  shone  with  soap  and  excitement,  and 
his  manner  was  a  series  of  embarrassed  convulsions; 
for  Kirsty  John,  the  cruel  object  of  his  hopeless 
love,  was  there.  A  fine,  big,  strapping  young  woman 
she  was,  with  a  strong  face,  and  a  pair  of  fearless, 
black  eyes.  She  sat  bolt  upright  against  the  log 
wall,  talking  to  Mary  Lauchie,  a  sweet,  pale-faced 
girl;  and  occasionally  casting  a  withering  glance 
in  the  direction  of  the  bench  behind  the  stove,  where 
the  Weaver  was  alternately  striving  to  efface  himself 
and  to  attract  her  attention. 

Scotty  soon  managed  to  slip  away  from  his  grand- 
mother, and  join  Betty  and  Peter  in  a  corner.  He 
found  them  in  the  same  state  of  subdued  excitement 
as  he  was  himself.  Peter  informed  him  in  a  joyous 
whisper  that  there  was  a  big  cheese  in  the  cupboard, 
and  a  johnny  cake  and  blackberry  preserves  for  the 
visitors,  before  they  left.  Scotty's  interest  in  this 
delightful  disclosure  did  not  prevent  his  noticing 


THE     REFORMATION  97 

Callum's  entrance.  Callum  had  gone  with  Hector 
to  put  up  the  team  and  now  came  marching  in,  the 
object  of  many  admiring  glances. 

He  displayed  none  of  Weaver  Jimmie's  diffidence; 
but  went  straight  over  to  where  Mary  Lauchie  sat, 
and  whispered  in  her  ear,  and  Mary  flushed  and 
smiled  and  her  plain  face  grew  quite  pretty.  Even 
Kirsty  was  gracious  to  the  handsome  youth,  and  poor 
Jimmie  nearly  twisted  his  neck  out  of  joint  in  his 
jealous  efforts  to  do  something  commendable  in  her 
sight. 

But  all  sounds  were  suddenly  hushed,  for  Praying 
Donald  was  rising  to  announce  the  first  psalm: 

"I  waited  for  the  Lord  my  God, 
And  patiently  did  bear, 
At  length  to  me  He  did  incline 
My  voice  and  cry  to  hear." 

His  deep,  rumbling  voice  had  just  completed  the 
first  few  lines  when  he  was  interrupted  by  a  clatter 
of  bells.  The  door  swung  suddenly  open,  and,  to  the 
amazement  of  all  the  assembled  Scots,  in  stalked  Tom 
Caldwell  with  his  wife  and  family ! 

The  appearance  of  the  leader  of  Methodism  in  the 
stronghold  of  the  Presbyterians  was  naturally  unex- 
pected; but  Tom  Caldwell  had  been  very  friendly 


98  THE     SILVER    MAPLE 

with  the  MacDonalds  since  the  day  they  "  cleared 
the  Glen  of  Popery,"  as  he  said,  and  hearing  that 
they  were  about  to  imitate  the  Plats  in  having  a 
season  of  prayer,  had  journeyed  all  the  way  to  the 
Oa,  resolved  to  give  the  neighbours  a  helping  hand 
in  the  good  work,  and  infuse  a  little  life  and  fire  into 
the  dead  bones  of  Presbyterianism. 

The  leaders  arose  and  shook  hands  with  the  new- 
comer solemnly,  but  heartily ;  while  Long  Lauchie's 
wife  and  daughters  welcomed  the  family. 

"  Sure,  it's  the  right  track  ye're  on,  Donald ! " 
cried  Tom  Caldwell  heartily,  as  he  seated  himself 
and  gazed  happily  about  him ;  "  the  Glen's  gettin' 
to  be  like  Sodom,  that's  what  it  is,  an'  it's  mesilf  that 
couldn't  be  lettin'  the  matin'  pass  widout  comin'  up 
an'  givin'  ye  a  helpin'  hand.  We'll  bring  down  a 
blessin',  glory  be;  so  let's  jist  fire  ahead  an'  hare 
a  rousin'  time !  " 

The  MacDonald  brethren  looked  at  each  other 
rather  aghast.  Tom  Caldwell's  fervour,  though  well- 
meant,  was  a  foreign  element,  savouring  of  irrever- 
ence and  Methodistic  confusion ;  but  his  hearty  good 
will  was  irresistible;  Long  Lauchie  gave  him  the 
place  of  honour  next  to  the  leader,  and  the  meeting 
commenced. 

Scotty  scarcely  heard  the  words  of  the  psalm,  for 


THE     REFORMATION  99 

to  his  delight  he  found  that  Nancy  had  come,  too, 
and  was  there  seated  beside  her  mother.  In  spite 
of  the  fact  that  Nancy  was  Irish  and  tainted  with 
Orange  sentiments,  Scotty  had  found  it  impossible 
to  tear  her  from  his  heart.  He  had  long  since  made 
up  his  mind  that  when  he  grew  big  he  would  go  to 
see  her  instead  of  Betty  in  the  evenings.  He  won- 
dered what  Callum  would  think  of  her,  and  glanced 
up  to  see  that  young  man  staring  with  all  his  might 
at  the  subject  of  his  thoughts.  Nancy  was  certainly 
worth  a  stare;  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  she  was  still 
at  school,  she  was  quite  one  of  the  young  ladies  of 
the  Flats,  and  when  occasion  demanded  could  de- 
port herself  quite  becoming  the  name.  Her  black, 
curly  hair  was  tied  up  with  a  scarlet  ribbon  that 
matched  her  cheeks,  her  eyes  were  Irish  blue,  limpid 
and  dancing,  and  she  had  a  dimple  in  the  centre  of 
her  saucy  chin. 

Seeing  Callum  so  absorbed,  Scotty  slid  softly  up 
to  him.  "  That's  Nancy !  "  he  whispered  proudly. 

"  Is  it?  "  said  Callum,  with  an  air  of  surprise. 
"Where?" 

"  Why,  there  beside  Granny,  where  you're  lookin'. 
Ain't  she  pretty?" 

"  Oh,  I  guess  so."  Callum  showed  an  indifference 
that  greatly  disappointed  his  nephew.  Probably, 


100          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

though,  he  considered,  Callum  would  not  think  of 
admiring  an  Irish  girl. 

At  that  moment  the  girl  raised  her  eyes  and 
glanced  in  their  direction.  She  encountered  Scotty's 
eager  gaze,  and  returned  it  with  a  brilliant,  laughing 
glance ;  then  her  eyes  met  Callum's  and  she  instantly 
turned  away  with  a  coquettish  toss  of  her  head. 
Scotty  felt  she  surely  might  have  smiled  at  Callum, 
too.  He  glanced  up  at  the  young  man  again  and 
was  rather  troubled.  He  was  sure  Callum  must  be 
very  angry  at  either  him  or  Nancy,  for  he  had  never 
seen  his  face  get  red  like  that  unless  he  were  in  a 
rage. 

But,  meantime,  Praying  Donald  had  finished  the 
interrupted  psalm  and  Roarin'  Sandy  had  started 
the  tune.  The  elder  men  caught  it  up,  then  the 
women,  and  lastly  the  young  men  about  the  stove, 
and  the  song  swelled  out  slow  and  solemn,  the  deep, 
full-chested  notes  rolling  out  into  the  winter  night 
where  the  glittering  stars  and  the  solemn,  silent  forest 
seemed  to  give  back  in  grand  reverberations  the 
words : 

**  He  put  a  new  song  in  my  mouth 
Our  God  to  magnify !" 

In  the  hush  that  followed,  Praying  Donald  read  a 
chapter  from  the  Holy  Word,  read  it  in  tones  that 


THE     REFORMATION  101 

arrested  the  most  careless  listener,  and  even  Scotty 
felt  a  little  tingle  go  over  him  at  the  yearning  words : 

"  As  the  hart  panteth  after  the  water  brooks,  so 
panteth  my  soul  after  thee,  O  God.  My  soul  thirst- 
eth  for  God,  for  the  living  God." 

And  then  they  all  knelt  in  prayer,  old  and  young, 
serious  and  careless ;  all  bowed  before  the  God  for 
whom  their  souls,  whether  they  realised  it  or  not, 
panted  as  the  hart  for  the  cooling  streams. 

The  prayers  were  all  the  heartfelt  repetition  of 
the  sentiment  expressed  in  the  psalm.  These  pio- 
neers were  children  in  a  strange  land,  surrounded  by 
new  conditions,  and  in  their  wise  simplicity  went  as 
children  to  a  father  for  what  they  most  needed.  After 
Praying  Donald  came  Big  Malcolm,  then  Store 
Thompson,  and  Roarin'  Sandy,  and  then  the  leader 
called  upon  Tom  Caldwell.  Tom  Caldwell's  big  Irish 
heart  was  overflowing  with  good-will  to  his  Scottish 
neighbours ;  and  carried  away  by  his  emotions,  he 
prayed  long  and  loud  and  shouted  hallelujahs  in 
a  manner  that  rather  alarmed  the  company.  Indeed, 
Store  Thompson's  wife,  who  was  considered  quite 
a  genteel  person  in  the  community,  declared  after- 
wards that  "  it  jist  garred  her  ears  tingle,"  and 
Store  Thompson  himself,  though  never  given  to  cen- 
sure anyone,  admitted  that  though  Tom  certainly 


102          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

had  a  fine  gift  of  prayer,  he  was,  "  jist  a  wee  thing 
tumultuous-like." 

The  meeting  had  been  very  solemn  and  the  young- 
est person  there  very  well-behaved  during  the  earlier 
prayers,  but  after  Tom  Caldwell  came  the  host  of 
the  evening,  and  the  young  men  began  to  grow  rest- 
less. For  Long  Lauchie  was  never  so  long  as  when 
at  his  devotions.  Indeed,  for  years  it  had  been 
the  scandal  of  the  Oa  that  his  sons  were  in  the  habit 
of  slipping  out  during  family  worship  to  attend  to 
the  "  chores "  about  the  stable,  returning  to  ap- 
pear decorously  upon  their  knees  when  their  father 
arose. 

At  Callum  Fiach's  suggestion  the  "  Lauchie  boys  " 
even  arranged  a  competition  in  which  the  five  sons 
strove  to  see  who  could  make  the  longest  excursion 
during  prayer-time.  The  palm  was  yielded  to 
Hughie,  the  third  son,  who  crossed  the  swamp  on 
skis  one  evening,  and  saw  Kirsty  John  chase  the 
Weaver  from  her  door  with  the  porridge  stick,  ar- 
riving home,  breathless  but  triumphant,  just  before 
the  amen  was  pronounced.  No  one  quite  believed 
Hughie's  story,  until  it  was  ruefully  corroborated 
by  Jimmie  himself;  whereupon  the  limit  was  de- 
clared to  be  reached,  and  the  boys  turned  their  atten- 
tion to  new  fields. 


THE     REFORMATION  103 

But  on  this  first  prayer-meeting  night,  spurred 
on  by  the  enthusiasm  of  the  company,  Long  Lauchie 
bade  fair  to  give  his  sons  ample  opportunity  to 
journey  through  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  town- 
ship of  Oro  and  return  before  he  was  finished.  The 
pious  old  man  had  a  fine  poetic  temperament,  and 
to-night  he  soared  beyond  anything  his  family  had 
ever  heard.  The  petition  ramified  and  expanded  to 
an  alarming  length,  and  still  showed  no  signs  of 
stopping.  Even  Mrs.  Lauchie,  whose  chief  pride 
was  her  husband's  devotional  fluency,  was  somewhat 
concerned. 

There  was  a  restless  movement  among  the  young 
men  about  the  stove.  Scotty  twisted  and  squirmed 
and  tried  in  vain  to  be  still.  It  was  very  wicked  to 
open  one's  eyes  during  prayer,  he  knew.  Roarin' 
Sandy's  Johnny  had  told  him  that  if  he  did  he  might 
see  the  Deil  standing  behind  him.  And  since  then 
Scotty  had  been  divided  between  dread  of  the  awful 
apparition  and  a  natural  desire  to  see  what  his  San- 
tanic  Majesty  looked  like.  He  was  ashamed  of  his 
restlessness,  for  Callum  was  kneeling  beside  him  mo- 
tionless. Callum  would  think  him  a  baby  if  he  moved. 
He  peeped  cautiously  through  his  fingers  at  his 
uncle.  Callum  was  kneeling  at  the  bench,  absolutely 
still,  indeed,  but  with  his  eyes  wide  open  and  staring 


104          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

straight  at  the  black,  curly  head  of  Tom  Caldwell's 
daughter. 

Scotty  felt  that  if  it  were  not  very  wicked,  he 
would  like  to  straighten  up  like  that  and  stare  at 
somebody,  too.  It  looked  so  big  and  manly.  Master- 
ing his  fears,  he  turned  cautiously  in  the  direction  of 
Betty,  but  Betty  had  slipped  to  the  floor  with  her 
tousled  yellow  head  on  the  bench,  and  was  sound 
asleep.  Scotty  closed  his  eyes  again,  the  droning 
voice  of  Long  Lauchie  floated  farther  and  farther 
away,  he  felt  himself  going,  too,  somewhere,  into 
immeasurable  space,  until  at  last  he  dropped  into  the 
gulf  of  oblivion.  He  half  woke  to  find  Granny  tying 
a  muffler  round  his  neck.  He  made  an  ineffectual 
effort  to  stop  her,  for  she  was  saying,  "  Eh,  eh,  Gran- 
ny's poor,  wee,  sleepy  lamb,"  and  he  dreaded  lest 
Peter  should  hear  her ;  only  Peter,  like  all  the  other 
people,  seemed  an  immeasurable  distance  away. 
Someone  else  was  bending  over  him,  too,  and  saying, 
"  And  you'll  be  sure  to  let  him  come,  then  ?  " 

"  But  I'm  afraid  he  would  jist  be  a  trouble  to  yer 
mother,  Kirsty,"  Granny  answered. 

"Tuts,  not  a  bit!"  was  the  reply.  "  Mother'll 
jist  be  glad  o'  him,  an'  the  wee  Isabel  would  be  lonely. 
Ah'm  glad  she's  comin',  for  mother's  jist  wearin* 
to  see  her  again,  an'  Miss  Herbert's  sick,  poor  lady." 


THE     REFORMATION  105 

"  Oh,  well,  indeed  he  can  go,  Kirsty,  an'  I  hope  he 
will  not  be  rough  with  the  little  lady." 

"  Not  him."  Scotty  felt  a  strong,  rough  hand 
pass  gently  over  his  curls.  "  When  she  comes  Ah'll 
send  ye  word  by  yon  loon  o'  a  weaver.  It'll  give  him 
somethin'  to  do,  an'  the  buddie's  jist  fair  in  want  for 
a  job." 

"  Ah,  Kirsty,  Kirsty ! "  whispered  Granny,  "  it's 
too  hard  ye'll  be  on  poor  Jimmie.  Take  my  advice 
an'  marry  him,  he'll  be  a  good  man  to  you,  indeed! 
There's  the  sleigh.  Come,  Hamish,  lad,  take  the  lamb 
out,  he  will  be  jist  dead  asleep,  whatever.'* 

As  Scotty  passed  out  like  a  sack  of  potatoes  on 
Hamish's  shoulder,  the  rush  of  clear,  cold  air  partly 
revived  him.  He  cuddled  under  the  blanket  close  to 
Granny,  and  dimly  heard  the  good-nights  as  each 
sleigh-load  moved  down  the  long  lane,  not  gaily 
spoken  as  when  the  neighbours  came  in  for  an  even- 
ing, but  low  and  subdued,  for  all  were  under  the  spell 
of  the  season  of  prayer.  He  heard  Granny  say, 
"Where's  Callum?  Don't  be  leaving  the  lad,"  and 
a  voice  answered,  "  He's  yonder  helpin'  Tom  Cald- 
well  to  hitch,"  and  then  Callum  sprang  in,  and  the 
sleigh  creaked  slowly  forward,  and  Scotty  slid  away 
once  more  down  the  dim  road  of  dreamland. 


VI 

AN     IGNOMINIOUS     TASK 

Into  the  dim  woods  full  of  the  tombs 

Of  the  dead  trees  soft  in  their  sepulchres, 

Where  the  pensive  throats  of  the  shy  birds  hidden 

Pipe  to  us  strangely  entering  unbidden, 

And  tenderly  still  in  the  tremulous  glooms 

The  trilliums  scatter  their  white-winged  stars. 

— ARCHIBALD  LAMPMAN. 

WINTER    passed,    and    then    came    the 
spring,    with    its    fresh,    warm    winds 
coming    up    from    Lake    Simcoe    and 
sweeping  away  the  ice  and  snow  in  a  mad,  joyous 
rush  of  water. 

Scotty  went  barefoot  just  as  soon  as  there  was 
enough  bare  ground  to  step  upon.  He  seemed  for  a 
time  to  cast  aside  all  restraint  with  his  shoes  and 
stockings,  and  when  not  in  school  lived  a  freebooter's 
life  in  the  forest. 

He  and  Bruce  spent  much  time  wandering,  plun- 
dering and  exploring  from  the  edge  of  the  corduroy 
road  where  the  musk  and  marigolds  and  fleur-de-lis 
grew  in  glorious  profusion  all  through  the  green 

106 


AN     IGNOMINIOUS     TASK     107 

and  golden  depths  to  where  the  River  Oro  slipped 
from  its  sweet  enthralment  of  reeds  and  water  lilies 
to  go  bounding  away  down  the  valley  to  Lake  Sim- 
coe.  The  whole  place  was  a  plantation  of  treasures 
and  teemed  with  sounds  of  life:  the  blue- jay,  the 
song-sparrow,  the  robin,  the  noisy,  red-winged  black- 
bird, the  plaintive  pee-wee,  the  far-off,  clear-ringing 
whitethroat,  the  jolly  woodpecker,  the  noisy  squir- 
rel, and  the  shy  raccoon — Scotty  knew  them  all  in- 
timately, learned  their  ways  and  lived  their  life. 

He  was  given  to  much  idle  roaming  through  the 
swamp,  on  the  way  to  and  from  school,  too,  and  when 
he  went  to  bring  home  the  cows  he  remained  longer 
than  even  Granny  could  excuse.  For  that  simple 
task  should  have  been  performed  in  a  very  short 
time.  He  could  trace  the  cattle  through  the  woods 
with  the  sure  instinct  of  a  sleuth-hound,  could  dis- 
tinguish Spotty's  tracks  from  Cherry's,  and  might 
have  found  his  own  little  heifer's  in  the  midst  of  the 
public  highway.  But  his  skill  did  not  help  to  make 
him  any  more  expeditious,  for  he  often  forgot  his 
errand  and  would  lie  full  length  upon  the  ground, 
gazing  up  into  the  restless,  swishing,  green  sea  above, 
and  dreaming  wonderful  dreams.  Callum  declared 
he  was  a  lazy  little  beggar  and  ought  to  be  cowhided 
to  make  him  move,  though  where  one  could  be  found 


108         THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

to  perform  that  necessary  operation  the  MacDonald 
family  were  not  prepared  to  say. 

That  he  did  not  altogether  develop  into  a  little 
savage  was  entirely  due  to  Granny's  tender  care. 
Nowhere  was  the  influence  of  her  beautiful  character 
felt  so  strongly  as  by  the  little  grandson.  She,  who 
could  command  her  grown-up  sons  by  her  mere  pres- 
ence, and  who  was  slowly  but  surely  transforming 
Big  Malcolm's  wild  nature,  was  quietly  moulding  the 
boy's  character.  Scotty  early  learned  the  great  les- 
sons of  life,  the  lessons  of  truth  and  right,  and  was 
well  grounded  in  the  knowledge  of  the  things  that  are 
eternal.  He  could  read  the  Bible  before  he  ever 
entered  school,  and  could  repeat  the  Shorter  Cate- 
chism with  a  rapidity  that  sometimes  alarmed  Granny, 
as  savouring  of  irreverence.  He  learned  a  verse  of 
Scripture  by  heart  every  evening  of  his  life,  and  the 
Sabbath  was  a  grand  review  day. 

Sunday  was  always  a  red-letter  day  in  Scotty's  life, 
for  he  generally  had  Granny  to  himself.  Not  that 
the  others  were  away ;  for  Big  Malcolm,  who  gener- 
ally ruled  his  household  rather  laxly,  sternly  forbade 
Sabbath  visiting.  But  the  boys  wandered  off  to  the 
barn  or  the  woods  after  morning  prayers,  and  Big 
Malcolm  dozed,  or  smoked,  or  read  his  Bible.  And 
then  Granny  and  her  boy  would  climb  the  little  hil- 


AN     IGNOMINIOUS     TASK     109 

lock  beside  the  house  and  sit  under  the  Silver  Maple. 
This  was  a  fine  position,  for  one  could  see  Lake  Oro, 
stretched  out  there  blue  and  sparkling  in  its  ring 
of  forest,  and  far  away  to  the  south,  a  glittering 
string  of  diamonds  and  turquoise  where  Lake  Simcoe 
lay  smiling  in  the  sun,  and  now  and  then,  where  a 
clearing  opened  the  view,  the  blue  flash  of  the  river. 
And  there,  with  the  soft  rustle  of  the  green  and 
silver  canopy  above,  and  around  the  scent  of  the 
clover  and  the  basswood  blossoms,  Scotty  lay  with 
his  head  in  Granny's  lap  and  heard  wonderful  stories 
of  One  who  sat  on  a  hill  and  spoke  to  the  multitude 
as  never  man  yet  spake.  And  never  afterwards, 
though  he  sometimes  wandered  from  Granny's  teach- 
ings, did  those  Sabbath  days  lose  their  hold  upon 
his  life. 

And  so  the  spring  slipped  into  summer,  and  one 
evening  a  new  element  came  into  his  life.  He  was 
lying  on  the  doorstone,  his  feet  in  the  cool,  dewy 
grass,  dreamily  watching  the  fireflies  sparkling  away 
down  in  the  pasture  by  the  woods,  and  listening  to  the 
hoarse  cry  of  the  night  hawks  as  they  swooped  over- 
head. It  was  a  warm  evening,  and  the  leaves  of  the 
Silver  Maple,  still  touched  by  the  hot  glow  of  the 
sunset,  hung  motionless  in  the  still  air. 

Rory  came  out  with  his  fiddle,  and,  sitting  with 


110          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

his  chair  tilted  against  the  house,  droned  out  a  low, 
sweet,  yearning  song  for  Bonny  Prince  Charlie  who 
would  return  no  more,  no  more.  Grandaddy  sat  near 
on  a  bench  smoking  contentedly.  Since  the  day  of 
the  first  prayer  meeting  at  Long  Lauchie's,  Big 
Malcolm  had  lived  a  life  of  peace,  and  had  once  more 
regained  his  attitude  of  happy,  kind  complacency. 
Old  Farquhar  was  gone;  he  had  disappeared  when 
the  Silver  Maple  was  putting  forth  its  buds,  and  had 
gone  "  a  kiltin'  owre  the  brae,"  as  he  musically  ex- 
pressed it  to  Scotty ;  but  everyone  knew  that  he 
would  come  back  in  the  autumn  as  surely  as  the  wild 
ducks  went  south.  Indoors,  close  to  the  candle,  sat 
Hamish  poring  over  "  Waverley,"  and  Callum  could 
be  heard  tramping  about  in  the  loft,  preparing  to 
go  off  for  the  evening.  Callum  took  great  pains 
with  his  toilette  these  evenings,  Scotty  noticed,  though 
the  boys  did  not  tease  him  any  more  about  going  to 
see  Mary  Lauchie ;  indeed,  there  were  no  more  good- 
natured  allusions  to  his  courtship.  Instead,  Scotty 
had  overheard  Rory  tell  Callum,  in  the  barn  one  day, 
that  "  he'd  go  sparkin'  old  Teenie  McCuaig,  though 
she  was  seventy  and  hadn't  a  tooth  in  her  head,  be- 
fore he'd  be  seen  going  down  to  the  Flats  to  see  an 
Irish  girl."  And  Callum  had  seized  him  by  the 
shoulders  and  flattened  him  up  against  the  wall  until 


AN     IGNOMINIOUS     TASK     111 

he  roared  for  mercy.  There  was  always  something 
in  the  home  atmosphere  when  Callum  started  off  of 
an  evening  now  that  vaguely  reminded  Scotty  of 
those  terrible  days  following  Grandaddy's  fight  in 
the  Glen.  He  felt  anxiously  that  his  hero  was  doing 
something  of  which  his  family  disapproved,  and  won- 
dered fearfully  what  it  might  be. 

His  mind  was  turned  from  the  contemplation  of 
these  difficulties  by  a  sudden  change  in  Rory's  tune. 
He  stopped  in  the  midst  of  his  low,  wailing  dirge  and 
struck  up  loudly  the  lively  air  that  told  again  and 
again  of  the  mirth  produced  when  "  Jinny  banged 
the  Weaver."  Scotty  raised  his  head  and  looked 
across  the  pasture-field.  That  tune  always  ushered 
Weaver  Jimmy  upon  the  stage,  and  there  he  was, 
coming  over  the  field,  easily  recognisable  by  his  huge 
feet.  Before  he  reached  them,  the  MacDonalds  could 
see  that  his  face  was  shining  with  unusual  joy. 

"  Come  away,  Jimmie,  man,"  called  Big  Malcolm, 
"  it  will  be  a  warm  night,  whatever." 

But  the  Weaver  was  too  happy  to  notice  anything 
wrong  with  the  weather.  "  Hoots,  it  will  be  a  fine 
night  for  all  that,  a  fine  night ;  and  how  will  you  be 
yourself,  Mrs.  MacDonald?  " 

"  Perhaps  you'll  find  it  chilly  enough  if  you  go 
round  by  Kirsty's,  Jimmie,"  suggested  Rory. 


112          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

"  Hooch !  "  Jimmie  flung  one  leg  over  the  other 
with  more  than  usual  vigour.  "  And  that  is  jist 
where  you  will  be  mistaken,  Rory  Malcolm,  I  will  jist 
be  coming  from  there,"  he  admitted  with  an  embar- 
rassed quiver. 

"  That's  what  you're  generally  doin* ;  how  fast  did 
you  come?  " 

"  Whisht,  whisht,  Rory,"  cried  his  mother.  "  It's 
the  foolish  lad  he  is,  Jimmie,  don't  be  listening  to  him. 
And  indeed  it's  Kirsty  John  will  be  the  fine  girl,  so 
good  and  so  kind  to  her  poor  mother.  And  how 
would  the  mother  be  to-night,  Jimmie  ?  " 

"Oh,  jist  about  the  same,  jist  about  the  same; 
but,"  he  lowered  his  voice  confidentially,  "  what  do 
you  suppose  she  would  be  doin'  the  night  ?  "  "  She  " 
was  understood  to  mean  Kirsty;  for  Jimmie  never 
dared  take  her  name  upon  his  tongue. 

"  Giving  you  a  clout  on  the  head,  most  like,"  ven- 
tured Rory. 

The  Weaver  did  not  deign  to  notice  him.  "  She 
would  be  sending  me  over  here  on  a  message ! "  he 
cried,  and  his  face  shone  as  if  illuminated  from 
within. 

"  Hech !  yon's  good  news,  Jimmie !  "  cried  Big 
Malcolm.  "  You're  comin*  on !  " 

"  She'll  be  sendin'  you  on  a  message  to  another 


AN     IGNOMINIOUS     TASK     113 

world  some  o'  these  days,"  said  Callum  coming  to 
the  door,  looking  very  handsome,  ready  for  depar- 
ture. 

"  Oh,  indeed  it's  yourself  had  better  be  lookin' 
after  your  own  sparkin',  Callum  Fiach ! "  cried 
Weaver  Jimmie  jovially.  "You'll  not  be  likely  to 
find  it  as  easy  as  I  will,  whatever." 

Callum  turned  away  with  an  embarrassed  laugh, 
Rory  following  him.  He  did  not  answer  Weaver 
Jimmie's  raillery,  as  he  would  have  done  under  other 
circumstances,  for  he  had  caught  a  look  on  his 
father's  face  that  betokened  trouble.  Big  Malcolm's 
eyes  flashed  angrily  and  he  took  his  pipe  from  his 
mouth  as  though  to  call  after  his  son ;  but  his  wife's 
gentle  voice  interposed.  She  had,  so  far,  by  her 
quiet  tact,  kept  the  father  and  son  from  an  open 
rupture. 

"And  what  would  Kirsty  be  doing?"  she  asked, 
striving  to  keep  her  anxiety  from  showing  in  her 
voice.  A  spasm  of  joy  jerked  one  of  the  Weaver's 
legs  over  the  other. 

"  She  would  be  sending  me  over  here  on  a  message. 
A  good  sign,  I  will  be  thinkin',"  he  added,  lowering  his 
voice,  for  the  young  men  were  scarcely  out  of  ear- 
shot. "  Yes,  indeed,  a  good  sign,  I  will  be  thinkin'. 
The  wee  lady  from  the  Captain's  came  the  other  day 


114          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

and  she  would  be  sending  me  to  get  Scotty  to  come 
and  play  with  her." 

Scotty  raised  his  head.  "  Hoh ! "  he  scoffed, 
"  play  with  a  girl !  " 

Big  Malcolm  laughed  indulgently.  "  See  yon, 
Jimmie !  "  he  said,  "  he'll  not  be  so  anxious  to  go  to 
Kirsty's  as  some  people,  indeed." 

Jimmie  grinned  delightedly.  Nothing  pleased 
him  more  than  to  be  twitted  about  his  devotion  to  his 
lady. 

"  Oh,  but  he  must  be  going,"  said  Granny.  "  The 
little  girl  would  be  lonely  and  I  would  be  promising 
Kirsty  last  winter  that  he  would  go." 

"  Grandaddy  don't  like  her  uncle,  anyhow,"  said 
Scotty.  Big  Malcolm  took  his  pipe  from  his  mouth. 
The  boy  had  mentioned  a  fact  for  which  his  grand- 
father had  excellent  reasons,  but  he  did  not  choose 
that  it  should  be  made  so  apparent  to  the  general 
public. 

"  That  will  be  none  o*  your  business,  lad,"  he  said 
sternly,  "  an'  when  Kirsty  wants  ye,  ye'll  go." 
Scotty  made  no  reply ;  he  was  not  quite  so  chagrined 
as  he  would  have  others  think.  He  really  wanted  to 
see  the  little  girl  with  the  yellow  curls  and  the  big, 
blue  eyes,  and  demonstrate  to  her  that  he  was  not 
English,  no  not  one  whit. 


AN     IGNOMINIOUS     TASK     115 

So  the  next  morning  he  set  off  across  the  swamp 
towards  Kirsty  John's  clearing.  It  was  a  relief  that 
Grandaddy  and  the  boys  had  gone  for  a  day's  work 
to  the  north  clearing.  This  was  a  tract  of  timber  on 
the  shore  of  Lake  Oro  which  was  partially  cleared, 
and  upon  which  Callum  hoped  some  day  to  settle. 
The  distance  to  it  was  some  miles,  and  they  had  taken 
their  dinner  and  supper ;  so  Scotty  felt  his  disgrace- 
ful secret  was  safe. 

He  was  a  long  time  on  the  way,  of  course,  for 
Bruce  had  gone  to  the  north  clearing  too  and  his 
master  had  to  do  double  work  in  racing  after  chip- 
munks. Then  he  loitered  purposely,  for  he  was  go- 
ing for  the  first  time  in  his  life  to  pay  a  formal  visit, 
and  that  to  a  girl.  The  situation  was  such  as  no 
discreet  person  would  plunge  into  without  due 
deliberation. 

So  the  sun  was  high  in  the  heavens  when  at  last 
he  saw  ahead  of  him  the  golden  light  that  betokened 
a  clearing,  and  heard  the  sound  of  farm  life  echoing 
down  the  forest  avenues. 

Kirsty  John's  farm  was  a  small,  rough  clearing 
near  the  Scotch  line.  There  were  two  or  three  fields, 
and  in  the  centre  of  them  a  log  shanty  and  a  small 
stable.  Everything  about  the  place  was  very  neat; 
for  Kirsty's  mother  was  a  Lowlander  and  one  of  the 


116          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

most  particular  of  that  great  race  of  housekeepers. 
The  little  barnyard,  ingeniously  fenced  off  with 
rough  poles,  the  small  patch  of  grass  around  the 
doorway,  the  neat  little  flower  garden,  all  showed 
signs  of  a  woman's  tasteful  hand.  But  Kirsty  could 
do  the  man's  part  as  well.  Black  John  MacDonald 
had  died  some  years  before,  leaving  his  invalid  wife  to 
the  care  of  their  only  child.  And  Kirsty's  care  had 
been  of  the  tenderest ;  and  if  in  the  rough  battle  of 
life  she  became  a  little  rough  and  masculine,  the  poor 
crippled  mother  felt  none  of  it.  Kirsty  managed 
everything  with  a  strong,  capable  hand,  from  felling 
trees  to  spinning  yarn  and  making  butter.  She  re- 
ceived plenty  of  help,  of  course;  Big  Malcolm  and 
Long  Lauchie  were  her  nearest  neighbours,  and  their 
families  vied  with  each  other  in  seeing  who  could  do 
the  most  for  her.  Weaver  Jimmie,  too,  would  have 
been  willing  to  let  the  weaving  industry  go  to  ruin  if 
Kirsty  would  but  let  him  so  much  as  carry  in  a  stick 
of  firewood  on  a  winter  evening;  but  Kirsty  kept 
her  despised  suitor  so  busy  saving  himself  from  vio- 
lent bodily  injury,  when  in  her  presence,  that  his 
assistance  was  not  material. 

Scotty  could  see  her  now  as  he  came  down  the 
forest  path.  She  was  working  in  the  little  rough 
hayfield,  pitching  up  the  forkfuls  of  hay  on  to  a 


AN     IGNOMINIOUS     TASK     117 

little  oxcart  with  masculine  energy.  Her  skirt  was 
turned  up,  showing  a  striped,  homespun  petticoat, 
and  beneath  it  her  strong  bare  ankles.  Her  pink 
calico  sunbonnet  made  a  dash  of  colour  against  the 
cool  green  of  the  woods. 

Scotty  took  a  leap  at  the  low  brush  fence  that  sur- 
rounded the  clearing  and  went  over  it  in  one  bound. 
Then  he  stood  stock  still  with  sudden  surprise;  for 
there,  right  in  front  of  him,  seated  on  a  low  stump 
with  an  air  of  patient  expectancy,  was  a  small  figure 
almost  enveloped  in  a  big,  blue  sunbonnet. 

"  Oh !  "  cried  Scotty  in  amazement. 

"  Oh !  "  echoed  the  Blue  Sunbonnet.  It  came  sud- 
denly to  life,  leaped  from  the  stump  and  pitched  itself 
upon  him.  "  Oh,  oh !  I've  been  watching  for  you 
just  hours  and  hours,  and  I  thought  you  weren't 
never,  never  coming !  " 

The  visitor  did  not  know  what  to  say.  He  was 
scarcely  prepared  for  such  an  effusive  welcome,  and 
was  suddenly  seized  with  a  fit  of  shyness. 

"You're  Scotty,  aren't  you?"  she  asked.  He 
nodded  and  the  vision  laughed  aloud  and  clapped  its 
small  hands.  The  blue  sunbonnet  toppled  off,  show- 
ing a  shower  of  riotous  golden  curls,  tumbled  about 
in  delightful  confusion ;  her  eyes,  big  and  blue,  danced 
with  joy.  "Oh,  oh,  I'm  so  glad!"  she  cried.  "I 


118          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

'membered  you  ever  since  I  saw  you  in  that  funny 
little  shop !  " 

Scotty  stared  still  harder.  To  hear  Store  Thomp- 
son's establishment  designated  by  such  terms  was 
beyond  belief. 

"  I  'membered  your  eyes  !  "  she  added,  nodding  con- 
fidentially. Her  baby  way  of  saying  "  'member " 
restored  Scotty's  confidence  in  himself. 

"  Well,  I  will  remember  you,  too,"  he  admitted 
sedately. 

She  laughed  again  and  capered  about  him,  while 
he  stood  and  looked  at  her  rather  puzzled.  He  did 
not  see  anything  to  laugh  at,  and  did  not  yet  com- 
prehend that  here  was  a  creature  so  joyous  by  nature 
that  she  must  laugh  and  dance  about  from  sheer 
spontaneous  delight. 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  glad ! "  she  reiterated  for  the  tenth 
time.  "  I'll  race  you  to  the  house !  " 

She  darted  down  the  hill  like  a  swallow,  her  golden 
hair  blown  back,  her  little  white  bare  feet  twinkling 
over  the  grass.  But  Scotty  was  a  very  greyhound 
for  speed.  He  leaped  after  her  and  in  a  moment 
forged  ahead.  When  he  had  gone  sufficiently  far  to 
show  her  how  fast  he  could  run,  he  looked  back  to  find 
her  limping  slowly  after  him.  The  boy's  tender 
heart,  always  quick  to  respond  to  the  sight  of  pain, 


AN     IGNOMINIOUS     TASK     119 

suddenly  smote  him.  He  ran  swiftly  back.  "  What's 
the  matter?  "  he  asked. 

"  A  fisel,"  she  said  plaintively,  dropping  upon  the 
grass  and  showing  him  the  sole  of  her  tender  little 
foot.  Running  barefoot  was  not  even  to  be  men- 
tioned at  home,  and  she  had  not  yet  grown  accus- 
tomed to  the  "  freedom  of  the  sod."  Scotty,  whose 
sturdy  little  brown  feet  were  shod  with  leather  of  their 
own  making,  stared  contemptuously;  she  must  cer- 
tainly be  a  baby  to  be  hurt  so  easily.  Nevertheless, 
he  bent  down  and  extracted  the  tormentor  with  the 
skill  acquired  in  many  summers'  apprenticeship. 
Then  he  regarded  her  with  half-disdainful  amuse- 
ment, his  shyness  all  vanished. 

"  Can't  you  say  thistle?  "  "he  inquired. 

The  big  blue  eyes  regarded  him  innocently.  "  I 
did  say  fisel,"  she  declared  wonderingly. 

"  No,  you  didn't,  you  would  jist  be  saying  *  fisel.'  " 

She  stared  a  moment,  then  laughed  aloud,  a  clear 
little  bubbling  irresistible  laugh,  and  this  time  Scotty 
laughed  with  her. 

He  seated  himself  cross-legged  upon  the  grass  and 
proceeded  to  catechise  her. 

"  Your  name  will  be  Isabel,  won't  it  ?  " 

"  Imph — n — n,"  the  blue  bonnet  nodded  em- 
phatically, "  Isabel  Douglas  Herbert,  an'  my  mamma 


120          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

was  Scotch,  an'  my  Uncle  Walter  says  I'm  his  Scotch 
lassie." 

Scotty  nodded  approval.  He  could  not  quite  un- 
derstand, however,  how  she  could  be  Scotch  and  live 
with  the  English  gentry  on  the  shores  of  Lake  Oro 
instead  of  in  the  Oa. 

"Where  does  your  mother  live?"  he  inquired 
dubiously. 

"  In  heaven,"  said  the  little  one  simply,  "  an'  my 
papa  lives  there  too." 

"  Oh,"  said  Scotty,  "  an'  my  father  and  mother 
will  be  living  there  too,  whatever."  He  was  not  to 
be  outdone  by  her  in  the  matter  of  ancestry. 

"  Do  they  ?  Oh,  isn't  that  nice  ?  I  guess  they 
visit  each  other  every  day.  An'  you  live  with  your 
granma,  don't  you?  " 

Scotty  nodded.     "  Have  you  got  a  Granny  too?  " 

"  No,  only  Granma  MacDonald  here,  but  I've  got 
an  auntie  an'  an  uncle,  an'  a  cousin.  His  name's 
Harold.  Have  you  got  a  cousin?  " 

"  No."  Scotty's  face  fell.  "  No,  I  don't  think  I 
will  be  having  any,  unless  mebby  Callum  an'  Rory  an* 
Hamish  would  be  my  cousins,  whatever." 

"  Who's  Callum  ?  "  Scotty  sat  up  straight,  his 
eyes  shining.  Callum !  Why,  he  was  the  most  won- 
derful man  in  all  the  township  of  Oro ;  and  thereupon 


AN     IGNOMINIOUS     TASK     121 

he  proceeded  to  give  her  a  detailed  account  of  the 
wonderful  achievements  of  "  the  boys  " ;  how  Callum 
was  so  big  and  so  strong  and  could  run  the  logs  down 
the  river  better  than  anyone  else;  how  Rory  could 
play  the  fiddle  and  dance ;  and,  oh,  the  stories  Hamish 
could  tell! 

The  blue  eyes  opposite  him  grew  bigger.  "  Oh," 
their  owner  exclaimed  delightedly,  "  I'm  going  over  to 
your  place  to  see  you  some  day,  an'  we'll  get  Hamish 
to  tell  us  'bout  fairies  an'  things,  won't  we?  You'll 
let  me  come,  won't  you  ?  " 

Scotty  hesitated.  A  girl  at  home  might  be  a  great 
inconvenience  and  at  best  would  certainly  be  an  em- 
barrassment ;  but  his  whole  life's  training  had  taught 
him  that  one's  home  must  ever  be  at  the  disposal  of 
all  who  would  enter,  and  anyone  who  would  not  must 
be  urged,  even  though  that  person  were  the  niece  of 
Captain  Herbert.  So  he  answered  cordially,  "  Oh, 
yes,  'course,  if  you  want  to  come." 

Miss  Isabel  sighed  happily.  "  Oh,  I  think  you're 
awful  nice ! "  she  exclaimed.  "  And  is  your  name 
just  Scotty?" 

"  Yes !  "  cried  Scotty,  very  emphatically,  "  Scotty 
MacDonald." 

"But  that  isn't  all,  is  it?  There's  sumpfin' 
more  ?  " 


122          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

"  No !  "  exploded  Scotty,  "  there  ain't !  Some  bad 
folks  would  be  saying  that  would  be  my  name ;  but  it 
will  be  jist  Scotty,  whatever.  And,"  he  looked 
threatening,  "  I  don't  ever  be  playing  with  anybody 
that  would  be  calling  me  that  nasty  English  name." 

His  listener  seemed  properly  impressed.  "  I  won't 
never  call  you  anything  but  just  Scotty!  "  she  prom- 
ised solemnly. 

A  call  from  the  house  summoned  them ;  Kirsty  had 
hurried  in  and  was  searching  the  milk-house  for  ban- 
nocks and  maple  syrup.  The  children  ran  through 
the  little  barnyard,  causing  a  terrible  commotion 
among  the  fowl,  and  up  the  flower-bordered  path  to 
the  shanty  door.  Scotty  had  not  been  at  Kirsty's 
since  the  summer  before,  when  Granny  took  him  to 
see  the  poor  sick  woman  who  lay  in  bed  weary  month 
after  weary  month,  and  now  he  drew  shyly  behind 
his  little  hostess. 

"  Come  away,  Scotty  man ! "  called  Kirsty  heart- 
ily. "  Come  away,  mother's  wantin'  to  see  ye ! " 

The  door  of  the  little  log  shanty  stood  open,  re- 
vealing a  bare,  spotless  room  with  whitewashed  walls. 
There  were  a  couple  of  old  chairs  and  a  rough  bench 
scrubbed  a  beautiful  white  like  the  floor ;  a  curtain  of 
coarse  muslin,  white  and  glistening,  draped  the  little 
window,  and  a  picture  of  Bobby  Burns  in  a  frame 


AN     IGNOMINIOUS     TASK 

made  from  the  shells  of  Lake  Oro,  and  another  of  the 
youthful  Queen  Victoria  and  the  Prince  Consort  in  a 
frame  ingeniously  wrought  from  pine  cones  hung  on 
the  wall.  A  tall  cupboard  and  an  old  clock  with  its 
long  hanging  weights  looked  quite  familiar  and  home- 
like to  Scotty.  But  over  in  the  corner  by  the  win- 
dow was  a  sight  that  struck  him  painfully  and  made 
him  draw  back.  An  old  four-post  bed  stood  against 
the  log  wall  and  in  it  lay  the  shrivelled  little  figure 
of  Kirsty's  mother  propped  up  with  pillows.  She 
was  bent  and  twisted  with  rheumatism,  like  a  little  old 
tree  that  had  been  battered  by  storms.  But  her  face 
was  brave  and  bright,  and  from  it  shone  a  pair  of 
brown  eyes  with  a  pathetic  inquiry  in  them  as  of  a 
dumb,  uncomprehending  creature  in  pain.  She  wore 
a  stiff  white  cap  on  her  thin  grey  hair,  a  snowy  mutch 
covered  her  poor  crooked  shoulders,  and  everything 
about  her  was  beautifully  neat  and  clean,  showing 
her  daughter's  loving  care. 

"  Heh,  mother !  "  cried  Kirsty  cheerfully,  "  here's 
Marget  Malcolm's  boy  at  last.  Come,  Scotty,  and 
mother  will  be  seeing  how  big  you  are." 

The  old  woman  took  the  boy's  sturdy  brown  hand 
in  her  own  poor  crooked  ones  as  well  as  she  was  able, 
and  peered  eagerly  into  his  face. 

"  Eh,  eh !  "  she  cried  musingly.     "  He  will  be  some 


THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

like  Marget's  lass,  but  he's  his  f  aether's  bairn ;  eh,  he's 
got  the  set  an'  the  look  o'  yon  fine  English  callant, 
forbye  the  MacDonald  eyes." 

The  aforementioned  MacDonald  eyes  drooped  and 
the  rosy  MacDonald  lips  pouted  at  the  word  English. 

"  He's  awful  nice,  isn't  he,  Granma  MacDonald?  " 
whispered  the  little  girl. 

The  old  woman  gazed  at  the  little  fair  face,  and 
then  back  at  the  boy. 

"  Strange,  strange,"  she  murmured,  half  audibly. 
"  It's  a  queer  warld,  a  queer  warld,  the  twa  here 
thegither,  an'  ane  has  a',  an'  the  ither  has  naething. 
Mebby  the  good  Lord  will  be  settin'  it  right.  Och, 
aye,  He'll  set  it  richt  some  way." 

The  children  gazed  uncomprehendingly  at  her,  but 
just  then  Kirsty  came  forward  with  a  plate  of  ban- 
nocks soaked  in  maple  syrup,  and  for  a  time  they  gave 
it  their  absorbed  attention. 

Then  Kirsty  soon  had  to  leave  them  for  her  work, 
and  after  giving  the  children  the  freedom  of  the 
clearing,  provided  they  did  not  go  near  the  well,  she 
rearranged  her  mother's  pillows  very  gently  and  re- 
turned to  the  field. 

The  two  sat  silent  by  the  bedside.  Now  that  their 
feast  was  over,  the  little  girl  looked  with  longing  eyes 
through  the  doorway ;  but  Scotty  felt  constrained  to 


AN     IGNOMINIOUS     TASK     125 

wait  a  few  minutes,  for  Granny  had  said  that  Kirsty's 
mother  was  sick  and  lonely  and  needed  comforting. 

The  old  woman  looked  up  with  sudden  brightness 
in  her  eyes.  "  Can  ye  read? "  she  asked  eagerly. 
Oh,  yes,  Scotty  could  read,  had  been  able  to  do  so  for 
a  very  long  time. 

"  I  can  read  too,  can't  I,  Granma  MacDonald  ?  " 
cried  the  little  girl.  "  I  read  to  you  sometimes, 
don't  I?" 

"  Yes,  yes,  lassie,  ye're  jist  a  wee  bit  o'  sunshine. 
Eh,  what  would  yer  puir  auld  Granny  do  if  ye  didna 
come  to  see  her  in  the  simmer?  But  Ah  want  the 
laddie  to  read  me  the  wee  bit  that  Kirsty  reads  me; 
ye  ken  it,  bairnie?  " 

She  pointed  to  the  old  worn  Bible  lying  on  the  win- 
dow sill,  with  a  drowsy  blue-bottle  fly  droning  about 
it.  The  little  girl  tripped  over  and  brought  it  to 
Scotty. 

"  I  know  the  place,  Granma,  don't  I?  "  she  chat- 
tered ;  "  it's  got  the  blue  mark  in  it.  There ! " 
Her  rosy  finger  pointed  to  a  well-worn  page,  marked 
by  a  piece  of  woven  scented  grass. 

"  Aye !  "  said  the  old  woman,  with  a  satisfied  look, 
"  that's  the  bright  bit,  lassie ;  Kirsty  leaves  a  mark 
for  Ah  canna  read.  Eh,  Ah  wish  Ah  could  jist  read 
yon  bit,  Ah  wouldna  mind  ony  ither,  but  jist  yon. 


126          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

Ah'd  like  to  see  hoo  it  looks."  Her  wrinkled  face 
quivered  pitifully,  but  she  made  a  brave  attempt  to 
smile.  "  Read  it,  laddie,"  she  whispered. 

Scotty  took  the  book  and  read  where  his  little 
friend  indicated.  He  read  the  Bible  every  day,  and 
this  extract  was  quite  familiar;  one  wonderful  story 
among  the  many  of  the  Master's  love  and  tenderness 
towards  all  the  suffering ;  Luke's  beautiful  tale  of  the 
poor  woman  who  was  bent  nearly  double  and  was  made 
whole  by  the  potency  of  a  Divine  word.  The  boy 
droned  laboriously  on,  and  as  he  came  to  the  words, 
"  And  Jesus  called  her  to  Him,"  the  old  woman  put 
out  her  feeble  hand  and  caught  his  arm,  her  bright 
brown  eyes  shining,  her  withered  face  flushed. 
"  Aye ! "  she  whispered  eagerly,  "  d'ye  hear  yon  ? 
D'ye  hear  yon?  He  called  her!  Aye!"  she  con- 
tinued with  an  air  of  triumph,  "  that's  it !  Some- 
times Ah  canna  quite  believe  it,  but  ilka  buddy  reads 
it  jist  the  same;  that's  it!  He  called  her  Himself. 
Aye,  an'  a'  the  ither  buddies  fleein'  aefter  Him,  an' 
botherin'  Him,  but  no  her,  no  her!  Eh,  wasna  yon 
graund !  Go  on,  laddie,  go  on !  "  She  made  a  feeble 
attempt  to  wipe  away  the  tear  that  coursed  down  her 
wrinkled  cheek. 

"  Eh,  isna  it  bonny !  "  she  cried  as  the  boy  finished. 
"  Isna  it  bonny !  Ah  suppose  Ah'm  too  auld  to  learn 


AN     IGNOMINIOUS     TASK     127 

to  read,  but  Ah'd  jist  like  to  read  yon  bit,"  she  said 
wistfully. 

Little  Isabel  went  softly  to  her,  and  tenderly  wiped 
away  the  tears  from  the  poor  old  face.  "  There  now, 
Granma  MacDonald,"  she  said  in  the  tender  tones 
she  had  heard  Kirsty  use,  "  you  mustn't  cry.  Maybe 
Jesus'll  come  and  make  you  straight  too,  won't  He?  " 

"  Eh,  lassie,"  she  whispered,  "  Ah'm  jist  waitin' 
for  it.  Ah'm  houpin'  He  will.  Ah'm  jist  a  burden 
to  puir  Kirsty,  an'  whiles  the  pain's  that  bad.  Eh, 
but  Ah  wish  He  would.  Surely  He'd  think  as  much 
o'  me  as  o'  yon  auld  buddy.  Don't  ye  think  He  micht, 
lassie?  " 

"  Course !  "  cried  the  little  one  with  the  hopefulness 
of  childhood,  "  course  He  will,  won't  He,  Scotty?  " 

Scotty  hung  his  head  shyly. 

"  If  Granny  was  here,  she  would  be  tellin'  you, 
whatever,"  he  whispered. 

"  Aye,  that's  true,  mannie,"  said  the  old  woman 
brightening,  "  Marget  McNeil  kens  aboot  Him,  aye, 
she  kens  fine.  Eh,  but  mebby  He  will,"  she  whispered. 
She  lay  back  and  gazed  through  the  little  window, 
away  over  the  forest-clad  hills  and  dales  to  where 
Lake  Oro's  shining  expanse  sparkled  through  the 
jagged  outline  of  the  treetops.  Her  lips  moved, 
"  He  called  her  to  Him"  she  whispered,  "  an'  He  said 


128          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

unto  her,  '  Woman,  thou  art  loosed  from  thine  in- 
firmity.' "  She  lay  very  still,  a  happy  light  shining 
in  her  eyes ;  the  children  waited  a  moment,  And  then 
slipped  softly  out  of  doors. 

When  he  found  himself  alone  once  more  with  his 
new  acquaintance,  Scotty  suddenly  became  shy  again. 
But  his  diffidence  was  put  to  flight  in  a  summary 
manner.  The  young  lady  gave  him  a  smart  slap  in 
the  face  and  darted  away.  "  Last  tag ! "  she 
screamed  back  over  her  shoulder.  Scotty  stood  for 
an  instant  petrified  with  indignation,  and  then  he  was 
after  her  like  the  wind.  As  they  tore  through  the 
little  barnyard  Kirsty  called  to  them  not  to  go  near 
the  well,  but  neither  of  them  heard.  Into  the  woods 
they  dashed,  over  mossy  logs  and  stones,  tearing 
through  the  undergrowth  and  crashing  among  fallen 
boughs.  In  spite  of  her  fleetness  Scotty  caught  his 
tormentor  as  she  dodged  round  a  tree;  he  held  her  in 
a  sturdy  grip  and  shook  her  for  her  impudence  until 
her  sunbonnet  fell  off.  He  was  somewhat  discon- 
certed to  find  her  accept  this  treatment  with  the  ut- 
most good  humour.  Betty  would  have  wailed  dis- 
mally, but  this  girl  wrenched  herself  free  and  laughed 
derisively. 

"  You  can't  hurt  like  Hal,"  she  said  rather  disdain- 
fully, "  he  pulls  my  hair." 


AN     IGNOMINIOUS     TASK     129 

"  Well,  I'll  be  doing  that  too  if  you  slap  me  again," 
said  Scotty,  grateful  for  the  suggestion. 

"  No,  you  won't,"  she  declared  triumphantly, 
"  'cause  then  I  wouldn't  play  with  you.  I'd  just  go 
right  back  to  Granma  MacDonald  and  leave  you  all 
alone  in  the  bush.  An'  I  wouldn't  show  you  all  the 
places  here.  There's  a  king's  castle  an'  a  hole  where 
the  goblins  comes  out  of,  an'  a  tree  where  a  bad,  bad 
dwarf  lives,  an' — an',"  she  was  whispering  now,  "  an' 
heaps  of  dreadfuller  things  than  that  'way  down 
there."  She  pointed  into  the  green  depths  with  an 
air  of  proprietorship.  Scotty  felt  a  deep  respect 
rising  in  his  heart. 

He  had  thought  he  knew  the  forest  as  the  chip- 
munks know  it,  but  here  it  was  in  a  new  and  romantic 
aspect. 

"  Where  are  they  ?  "  he  inquired  quite  humbly ; 
and,  satisfied  with  his  demeanour,  his  mentor  led  the 
way.  Though  the  royal  castle  proved  to  be  only  a 
rock  and  the  other  enchanted  places  equally  familiar 
to  Scotty,  she  clothed  them  with  such  an  air  of  mys- 
tery and  related  such  amazing  tales  concerning  each, 
vouched  for  by  no  less  an  authority  than  Weaver 
Jimmie,  that  her  listener  regarded  them  and  their  ex- 
ponent with  something  like  awe. 

They  journeyed  on,  every  new  turn  revealing  un- 


130          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

told  wonders  and  giving  an  added  stimulus  to  the 
leader's  lively  imagination.  And  indeed  the  forest  was 
a  place  in  which  anyone  might  expect  to  meet  a  fairy 
or  a  goblin  behind  every  tree.  The  happy  sense  of 
unreality  lent  by  the  uncertainty  of  distances,  the 
airy  unsubstantial  appearance  of  the  leaf-grown 
earth;  the  dazzling  splashes  of  golden  light  on  the 
green,  the  sudden  appearance  of  open  glades  choked 
with  blossoms ;  and  through  all  the  ringing  harmony 
of  a  hundred  songsters  combined  to  make  the  woods  a 
veritable  fairyland. 

And  Scotty  soon  found  to  his  joy  that  he  was  to 
have  his  part  in  interpreting  its  beauties  too,  for 
Isabel  came  to  the  end  of  her  tales  at  last  and  was 
full  of  questions.  What  was  that  sad  little  "  tee- 
ee-ee,"  somebody  was  always  saying  away  far  off.  It 
must  be  a  fairy  too.  But  Scotty  had  come  down  to 
realities  now,  and  felt  more  at  home.  That?  Why, 
that  was  only  a  whitethroat.  Didn't  she  hear  how  it 
said,  "  Hard-times-in-Canady !  "  She  laughed  aloud 
and  imitated  the  song,  setting  all  the  woods  a-ring 
with  her  clear  notes.  And  what  made  those  bells 
ring  up  in  the  tree?  Those  weren't  bells,  they  were 
just  veerys,  and  they  said,  "  Ting-a-ling-a-lee !  "  But 
the  bobolinks  had  bells;  they  would  go  back  to  the 
clearing  and  hear  them  ring  in  the  hayfield,  and 


AN     IGNOMINIOUS     TASK     131 

there  was  a  meadow-lark's  nest  there,  and  lots  of 
plovers ;  yes,  and  if  she  would  come  down  to  the  creek 
that  ran  across  the  Scotch  line  he  would  show  her  a 
mud  turtle,  and  they  could  catch  some  fish,  and  there 
was  a  boiling  spring  there,  where  the  water  was  so 
cold  you  couldn't  put  your  feet  into  it,  and  it  bubbled 
all  the  time,  even  in  the  winter. 

And  then  they  found  flowers,  oh,  so  many  flowers, 
big,  pink,  bobbing  ladies'  slippers,  and  delicate  or- 
chids and  great  flaming  swamp  lilies ;  and  there  were 
wonderful  pitcher-plants,  too,  with  their  tall  crimson 
blossoms.  Scotty  explained  the  workings  of  the  per- 
fidious little  vessels,  and  they  sat  down  and  watched 
with  absorbed  interest  the  poor  foolish  insects  slip 
happily  down  the  silken  stairway  to  certain  death. 
And  under  Isabel's  magic  touch  the  little  green  pitch- 
ers became  dungeons,  presided  over  by  a  wicked  giant, 
and  filled  with  helpless  prisoners. 

And  so  they  might  have  rambled  in  this  enchanted 
land  all  day  had  not  the  woman  nature  asserted  itself. 
Isabel  had  had  enough  of  fairies  and  goblins.  They 
must  give  up  this  wandering  life  and  settle  down,  she 
declared.  They  would  build  a  house  in  the  fence 
corner  and  carpet  it  with  moss  and  have  clam  shells 
from  the  creek  for  dishes.  Scotty  had  fallen  quite 
meekly  into  the  unaccustomed  role  of  follower  and 


132          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

was  willing  that  they  should  go  housekeeping,  pro- 
vided he  was  allowed  to  play  the  man's  part.  He 
would  be  Big  Wind,  the  Indian  who  lived  down  by 
Lake  Simcoe,  and  he  would  go  off  shooting  bears 
and  Lowlanders  all  day,  and  she  would  stay  at  home 
and  be  his  squaw  and  make  baskets.  But  Miss  Isabel 
would  be  nothing  of  the  kind.  She  did  not  like 
"  scraws  " ;  they  were  very  dirty,  and  came  to  the 
back  door  and  sold  their  baskets.  But  Scotty  might 
be  a  great  hunter  if  he  wanted,  and  she  would  be  the 
lady  who  lived  in  the  house,  and  she  would  cook  the 
dinner  and  go  to  the  door  and  call  "  hoo-hoo  "  when 
it  was  ready,  the  way  Kirsty  did  when  Long 
Lauchie's  boys  worked  in  her  fields. 

"  I  see  Kirsty  now ! "  she  called,  seating  herself 
upon  a  log  which  formed  one  side  of  their  mansion. 
"  I  see  her  'way  over  yonder !  "  Scotty  seated  him- 
self beside  her,  flushed  and  heated  with  the  unwonted 
exertions  of  house-building. 

"  Oh,  don't  you  love  Kirsty,"  she  cried,  giving  him 
an  ecstatic  shake.  "  I  do ;  an'  I  love  you,  too,  Scotty, 
you're  a  dear !  "  Scotty  looked  slightly  uncomfort- 
able, but  not  wholly  displeased. 

"  Don't  you  love  to  run  away  off  in  the  bush  like 
this,  and  have  nobody  to  bother  you?  "  she  inquired 
next. 


AN     IGNOMINIOUS     TASK     133 

"  Yes."  Scotty  could  cordially  assent  to  that. 
"  When  I  get  a  man,"  he  said,  in  a  sudden  burst  of 
confidence,  "  I'm  goin'  to  live  in  a  wigwam  like  Big 
Wind  an*  shoot  bears !  " 

"  Oh,  my !  "  she  cried  in  delight.  "  I  wish  I  could 
live  with  you,  only  I  don't  want  to  be  an  ugly  scraw, 
I  want  to  be  like  Kirsty  when  I  grow  big,  an'  live  up 
here  in  the  Oa,  an'  pile  hay;  but  I'll  have  to  be  like 
Auntie  Eleanor  an'  wear  a  black  silk  dress,  oh,  dear !  " 

"  Wouldn't  you  be  liking  a  silk  dress  ?  "  asked 
Scotty  in  surprise. 

"  No !  "  she  cried  disdainfully.  "  You've  always 
got  to  take  care  of  it.  I  want  a  red  petticoat  like 
Kirsty  wears,  and  I  want  to  go  in  my  bare  feet  all  the 
time,  and  live  in  the  bush." 

"  Don't  you  go  in  your  bare  feet  at  home?  "  in- 
quired Scotty  in  amazement. 

"  No,"  she  admitted  mournfully.  "  Auntie  Elea- 
nor says  'tisn't  nice  for  little  girls,  an'  I  have  to  play 
the  piano  every  morning,  an'  not  make  any  noise 
round  the  house,  'cause  you  know  my  poor  auntie 
has  headaches  all  the  time.  Do  you  know  what's  the 
matter  with  my  auntie?  " 

"  No." 

"  Well,  don't  you  tell,  it's  a  big  secret ;  she's  got 
the  heartbreak!  " 


134          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

"  The  what  ?  "  cried  Scotty  in  alarm. 

"  The  heartbreak.  Brian  told  me.  Brian's  our 
coachman,  an'  I  heard  him  tell  Mary  Morrison,  the 
cook,  and  he  told  me  not  to  never,  never  tell;  but  I'll 
just  tell  you,  and  you  won't  tell,  will  you,  Scotty?  " 

"  No,  never.  Will  it  be  like  the  rheumatics  Granny 
has?" 

"  No-o,  I  'spect  not ;  it's  when  you  have  headaches 
an'  don't  smile  nor  eat  much ;  not  even  pie ! "  She 
gazed  triumphantly  into  Scotty's  interested  coun- 
tenance. "  That's  what  my  auntie's  got." 

"  Would  she  be  catching  it  at  school?  "  he  inquired 
feelingly,  moved  by  recollections  of  an  epidemic  of 
measles  that  had  raged  in  Number  Nine  the  winter 
preceding. 

"  No,  she  just  got  it  all  by  herself.  She  was  going 
to  be  married  in  the  church,  Vay  over  in  England, 
and  she  had  a  beautiful  satin  dress  and  a  veil  and 
everything,  and  he  didn't  come ! " 

"  Who?  "  demanded  Scotty. 

"  Why,  the  gempleman ;  he  was  a  soldier-man  with 
a  grea'  big  sword,  an'  he  got  bad  an'  went  away,  an' 
my  auntie  got  the  heartbreak.  An'  that's  why  she's 
sick  an'  doesn't  want  me  to  make  a  noise  or  jump." 

Scotty  looked  at  her  in  deep  sympathy.  "  Won't 
she  be  letting  you  jump?  "  he  asked  in  awe. 


AN     IGNOMINIOUS     TASK     135 

"  Not  much,"  she  said  with  a  fine  martyr-like  air. 
"  She  says  'tisn't  lady-like,  an'  she's  going  to  send  me 
to  a  school  in  Toronto  when  I  get  big,  where  it's  all 
girls,  and  not  one  of  them  ever,  ever  jumps  once! " 

They  stared  at  each  other  in  mutual  amazement  at 
the  conception  of  a  whole  jumpless  school. 

"  I  wouldn't  be  going ! "  cried  Scotty  firmly. 
"  I'd  jump — I'd  jump  out  of  the  window  an'  run 
away,  whatever ! " 

Her  eyes  sparkled.  "  Oh,  p'raps  I  could  do  that 
too !  I'd  run  away  an'  come  to  Kirsty.  She  doesn't 
mind  if  I  jump  an'  make  a  noise,  an'  Kirsty  never 
makes  me  sew.  Oh,  Scotty,  you  don't  ever  have  to 
sew,  do  you?  " 

"  Noh ! "  cried  Scotty  in  disdain,  "  that's  girls' 
work." 

She  sighed  deeply.  "  I  wish  I  was  a  boy !  Harold 
never  has  to  sew,  but  Harold  goes  to  school  'way  in 
Toronto  all  the  time  an'  maybe  they  don't  let  him 
jump  there.  I'd  jump!"  she  cried,  springing  from 
the  log  and  laughing  joyously,  "oh,  wouldn't  I! 
Last  tag,  Scotty ! "  and  she  was  once  more  off  into 
the  woods  and  Scotty  after  her. 

Such  a  happy  day  as  it  was,  but  it  was  over  at  last, 
and  after  they  had  eaten  their  supper,  where  Kirsty 
served  it  to  them  in  their  playhouse,  Scotty  went  to 


136          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

the  house  to  bid  the  old  woman  good-bye,  and  started 
for  home. 

The  little  girl  followed  him  sadly  and  slowly  to  the 
edge  of  the  clearing. 

"  When'll  you  come  back  again  ? "  she  asked 
pleadingly. 

"  I'll  not  know,"  said  Scotty  patronisingly,  "  I 
don't  often  play  with  girls." 

The  blue  sunbonnet  drooped ;  its  owner's  assurance 
and  independence  had  all  vanished.  "  You  might 
come  next  Saturday,"  she  suggested  humbly. 

"  Well,"  said  Scotty  handsomely,  "  mebby  I'll  be 
coming." 

"  I'm  going  to  ask  Kirsty  if  I  can't  go  to  school 
with  you  some  day !  "  she  cried  audaciously. 

Scotty  looked  alarmed.  In  reality  he  was  most 
eager  to  return  and  resume  housekeeping  in  the  fence- 
corner,  but  to  have  this  stranger  go  to  school  with 
him  would  never  do.  The  boys  would  laugh  at  him, 
and  already  he  had  sufficient  trials  with  Betty  Lauchie 
since  Peter  stopped  going  to  school. 

"  Oh,  it's  too  far ! "  he  cried  hastily,  "  an'  there 
will  be  an  awful  cross  master  there ! " 

"  I  don't  care,  you  wouldn't  let  him  touch  me, 
would  you  ?  " 

"  If  you  don't  ask  Kirsty,  I'll  come  over  all  next 


AN     IGNOMINIOUS     TASK     137 

Saturday,  an'  mebby  she'll  be  letting  you  come  to  my 
place ;  it's  nicer  than  school." 

So  thus  comforted,  Isabel  climbed  the  stump  and 
swung  her  sunbonnet  as  long  as  the  slanting  sunlight 
showed  the  little  figure  running  down  the  fast  darken- 
ing forest-pathway;  and  just  before  the  shadows 
swallowed  him  up,  he  turned  and  waved  his  cap  in 
farewell. 


VII 
THE     AVENGING     OF     GLENCOE 

Now  the  dewy  sounds  begin  to  dwindle, 

Dimmer  grow  the  burnished  rills, 

Breezes  creep  and  halt, 

Soon  the  guardian  night  shall  kindle 

In  the  violet  vault, 

All  the  twinkling  tapers 

Touched  with  steady  gold 

Burning  through  the  lawny  vapours 

Where  they  float  and  fold. 

DUNCAN    CAMPBELL   SCOTT. 

THE   sound  of  a  tinkling  bell,  crossing  the 
pasture  in  tuneful  harmony  with  the  music 
of  the  summer  evening,  had  come  to  a  pause 
in  the  barnyard,  and  the  boys  had  gone  out  with  their 
pails  to  the  milking. 

Scotty  came  capering  up  the  path  from  the  barn, 
making  mischievous  snatches  at  Granny's  rosebushes, 
which  surrounded  the  house  all  abloom  in  their  June 
dresses.  He  seldom  returned  from  his  evening  task 
of  bringing  home  the  cows  in  such  good  time.  Gen- 
erally he  lingered  in  the  woods  until  he  had  almost 

138 


AVENGING     OF     GLENCOE     139 

worn  out  even  Granny's  patience,  and  caused  Callum 
to  threaten  all  kinds  of  dire  punishments,  which  were 
never  inflicted.  But  to-night  he  had  been  very  ex- 
peditious, and  with  good  reason ;  for  hadn't  Granny 
warned  him  that  Isabel  might  arrive  at  any  moment? 
She  had  come  to  Kirsty's  a  few  days  before,  and 
Weaver  Jimmie  had  promised  that,  if  the  lady  who 
ruled  his  heart  was  in  a  sufficiently  propitious  mood  to 
admit  of  his  leaving  her  door  intact,  he  would,  with- 
out fail,  bring  the  little  visitor  over  that  evening. 

She  and  Scotty  had  become  quite  intimate  since  the 
first  summer  of  their  acquaintance.  Miss  Isabel  was 
possessed  of  a  vitality  and  high  spirits  that  sometimes 
became  unbearable  to  her  invalid  aunt ;  so  every  sum- 
mer, to  her  own  delight  and  Miss  Herbert's  relief, 
she  was  packed  off  to  the  home  of  her  old  nurse.  For 
Kirsty  John's  mother  had  been  a  servant  in  the  Her- 
bert family  in  her  youth;  and  when  the  little  Isabel 
had  been  left  an  orphan  in  the  Captain's  family, 
Kirsty  herself  had  been  nurse-maid  to  both  her  and 
Captain  Herbert's  little  son.  Sometimes,  too,  dur- 
ing the  winter,  when  her  cousin  was  away  at  school, 
the  child  came  for  a  lengthy  visit  to  her  Highland 
home,  for  Miss  Herbert  had  often  to  go  to  the  city 
for  medical  attendance,  and  her  brother  always  ac- 
companied her,  glad  of  an  opportunity  to  be  with  his 


140          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

son.  Indeed,  the  family  at  Lake  Oro  had  what  Kirsty 
called  a  bad  habit  of  "  stravogin'."  She  declared 
they  were  always  "  jist  here-away  there-away,"  and 
never  settled  down  like  decent  folk  in  one  place.  But 
then  there  was  no  accounting  for  the  ways  of  the 
gentry,  and  these  people  were  half  English  and  half 
Irish,  anyway,  and  what  could  a  body  expect?  She 
was  thankful  herself  that  the  wee  bit  lassock  had  some 
good  Scotch  blood  in  her,  anyway.  Kirsty  often 
shook  her  head  over  her  little  charge,  declaring  that 
if  the  father  or  mother  had  lived,  or  even  the  Cap- 
tain's wife,  who  was  a  smart,  tidy  body,  even  if  she 
was  a  lady,  the  wee  one  would  have  had  better  care. 
Not  but  that  the  Captain's  folk  were  fond  of  the 
lamb;  Kirsty  declared  it  was  clean  impossible  not  to 
love  her ;  but  what  with  a  poor  girnin',  sick  body  for 
an  aunt,  and  an  uncle  who  was  such  a  gentleman  he 
didn't  know  whether  the  roof  was  falling  in  on  him  or 
not,  was  it  any  wonder  the  bit  thing  was  wild? 

Whatever  neglect  Miss  Isabel  may  have  suffered 
troubled  her  not  a  whit.  For  neglect  spelled  liberty 
and  always  contributed  to  the  general  joyousness  of 
her  existence.  Her  poor  aunt's  illnesses,  even,  were 
associated  in  her  childish  mind  with  the  keenest  de- 
light, for  they  brought  her  what  she  enjoyed  most  in 
the  world,  many  days  spent  in  the  Oa.  Nominally 


her  home  was  with  her  old  nurse,  but  she  really  spent 
the  greater  part  of  her  time  at  Scotty's  home.  And 
here  Weaver  Jimmie  became  indirectly  a  partaker  in 
the  joy  of  the  little  one's  presence;  for  Kirsty  en- 
trusted her  girl  to  him  in  her  journeys  between  the 
clearings ;  an  honour  of  which  Jimmie  boasted  from 
one  end  of  the  Oa  to  the  other,  and  fulfilled  his  com- 
mission with  a  vigilance  that  kept  his  lively  young 
charge  in  a  state  of  indignant  rebellion. 

In  the  meantime  Scotty  had  grown  to  like  this  new 
comrade  and  to  respect  her.  Of  course  she  was  only 
a  girl,  but  she  was  immeasurably  superior  to  Betty, 
for  she  rarely  cried,  was  always  merry,  had  a  marvel- 
lous inventive  genius  and  never  failed  of  some  new 
and  wonderful  scheme  for  enjoying  life  and  escaping 
work.  His  big,  generous  heart  experienced  no  jeal- 
ousy, but  only  a  great  pride  in  her,  when  she  usurped 
his  place  and  became  the  centre  of  interest  and  ad- 
miration in  his  home.  One  visit  had  been  sufficient  to 
establish  her  as  the  ruler  of  Big  Malcolm's  household. 
Everyone  came  at  her  beck  and  call;  Rory  fiddled, 
Callum  danced,  Old  Farquhar  sang,  and  Hamish  spun 
impossible  yarns  at  her  command.  And  Granny, 
who  was  the  most  abject  subject  of  all,  would  fondle 
her  golden  curls,  calling  her  Margaret,  the  name  of 
her  own  little  girl  whom  she  had  lost,  and  would  let 


THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

her  help  make  the  johnny  cake  for  supper,  appar- 
ently not  a  whit  disturbed  by  the  fact  that  every- 
thing in  the  room  was  strewn  with  flour.  Big  Mal- 
colm himself  seemed  to  forget  that  she  belonged  to 
the  man  against  whom  he  had  sworn  lifelong  enmity, 
and  like  the  rest,  opened  his  heart  to  her  unreservedly. 
And  she  returned  his  affection  with  all  the  might  of 
her  warm  happy  nature.  She  called  him  "  Gran- 
daddy,"  as  Scotty  did,  and  would  climb  upon  his  knee 
and  coax  and  tease  him  into  doing  things  that  even 
his  grandson  would  not  have  dared  to  ask. 

The  little  visitor  always  came  at  a  time  that  Scotty 
found  very  convenient,  just  when  the  closing  of 
school  had  deprived  him  of  Danny  Murphy's  com- 
panionship ;  and  to-night  he  looked  forward  to  her 
coming  with  more  than  usual  pleasure,  for  he  needed 
her  help  and  advice.  Of  late  the  boy's  tender  heart 
had  been  worried  by  signs  of  discord  at  home.  Some- 
thing he  could  not  fathom  was  wrong  with  Callum. 
That  old  trouble  that  had  arisen  between  him  and 
Grandaddy  the  first  winter  of  the  prayer  meetings 
had  been  suddenly  aggravated.  Scotty  had  heard 
rumours  at  school,  and  was  vaguely  conscious  of  the 
cause  of  the  dissension.  Isabel  was  so  quick,  perhaps 
she  could  help  him  to  find  out  just  what  was  wrong 
and  suggest  a  remedy. 


AVENGING     OF     GLENCOE     143 

"  Yon's  a  queer-lookin'  thing  comin'  over  the  bars, 
Scotty,"  said  his  grandfather,  smilingly,  from  his 
place  at  the  doorway. 

Scotty  turned  eagerly ;  yes,  there  was  a  little  blue 
figure  scrambling  hastily  over  the  fence  into  the  pas- 
ture-field, followed  by  Weaver  Jimmie,  as  anxious 
and  flustered  as  a  hen  with  a  wayward  duckling. 
A  joyous  scream  announced  that  she  had  really 
come. 

"  It's  her !  "  shouted  the  boy.     "  It's  wee  Isabel !  " 

He  darted  down  the  hill  to  meet  her,  but  Callum 
was  there  first.  Callum  was  on  his  way  up  from  the 
barn,  and  the  little  blue  figure  flew  to  him  and  made 
the  rest  of  the  journey  to  the  house  perched  trium- 
phantly upon  his  broad  shoulder,  screaming  with  de- 
light, and  calling  upon  Scotty,  her  own  dear  Scotty, 
to  come  and  meet  her. 

But  for  all  his  joy,  as  she  approached  Scotty  drew 
back  shyly  behind  the  rosebushes.  The  first  meeting 
with  Isabel  was  something  of  an  embarrassment,  for 
she  always  pitched  herself  upon  him  and  insisted 
upon  kissing  him,  more  than  once  sometimes,  if  he 
wasn't  watchful,  and  it  was  certainly  an  unseemly 
thing  for  a  boy  of  his  size  to  be  kissed  by  anybody. 
But  the  ordeal  was  soon  over,  and  when  they  had  all 
rejoiced  over  her  and  measured  her  height  against 


144          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

the  door-frame,  where  two  niches  showed  how  she  and 
Scotty  had  stood  last  summer,  and  admired  her 
growth,  and  warned  Scotty  to  take  care  or  she  would 
soon  be  as  tall  as  he  was,  the  elder  folk  gave  their 
attention  to  Weaver  Jimmie  and  left  the  children  to 
their  own  devices. 

As  usual  the  Weaver  was  the  bearer  of  important 
tidings. 

"  It's  a  fine  job  Tom  Caldwell  thinks  he's  got  this 
time ! "  he  declared  with  an  embarrassed  hitch  of  one 
big  foot  over  the  other,  and  a  rather  nervous  glance 
towards  Callum. 

"  What's  that?  "  inquired  Rory,  coming  up  to  the 
door  with  his  two  pails  of  foaming  milk.  "  We  al- 
ways like  to  know  what  our  relations  will  be  doing," 
he  added  with  a  sly  chuckle. 

Weaver  Jimmie  looked  more  embarrassed  than 
ever.  He  attacked  his  whiskers  and  became  so  ab- 
sorbed in  their  subduing  that  his  audience  grew  im- 
patient. 

"  Out  with  it,  man ! "  cried  Callum,  and  thus 
adjured,  the  Weaver  told  his  story.  When  he  had 
finished,  it  appeared  that  a  much  graver  danger  than 
a  Fenian  raid  threatened  the  Glen,  for  what  should 
Tom  Caldwell  and  all  those  Irish  louts  from  the  Flats 
be  up  to  now  but  an  Orangemen's  raid! 


AVENGING     OF     GLENCOE     145 

Big  Malcolm  removed  his  pipe  and  glared  at  the 
speaker. 

"  What  is  it  ye  will  be  saying,  man?  "  he  demanded 
harshly.  Weaver  Jimmie  looked  encouraged,  and 
avoiding  Callum's  eye,  he  gave  further  details.  Tom 
Caldwell  had  lately  been  the  means  of  organising  an 
Orange  lodge  in  the  Flats,  and  at  their  last  meeting 
the  brethren  had  decreed  that,  upon  the  coming  12th 
of  July,  they  must  have  a  celebration.  It  was  to  be 
no  ordinary  affair  either,  Pete  Nash  himself  told 
him ;  but  such  a  magnificent  spectacle  as  the  pioneers 
had  never  yet  witnessed.  Pete  had  received  orders  to 
prepare  dinner  for  fifty  guests  and  whiskey  for  twice 
as  many.  There  was  to  be  a  grand  rally  early  in  the 
morning  at  the  home  of  Tom  Caldwell,  who  was  to 
personate  the  great  Protestant  monarch,  and  at  high 
noon  a  triumphal  march  up  over  the  hills  and  down 
into  the  Glen  to  the  feast, — with  fifes  and  drums  and 
a  greater  display  in  crossing  the  Oro  than  King 
William  himself  had  had  in  crossing  the  historic 
Boyne. 

Big  Malcolm  sat  silent,  his  fists  clenched.  He  was 
a  Glencoe  MacDonald,  and,  like  all  his  clan,  had  an 
abhorrence  of  the  name  of  Orange  running  fiercely  in 
his  veins.  But  he  was  saying  to  himself  over  and  over 
that  he  who  had  repented  of  all  his  strife,  who  had  set 


146          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

his  face  firmly  against  the  evils  of  the  day  and  become 
a  leader  of  the  new  movement  that  was  bringing  the 
community  into  a  higher  and  better  life,  he  certainly 
must  not  be  the  one  to  stir  up  dissension.  And  yet, 
to  have  a  celebration  in  their  own  glen  in  honour  of 
the  MacDonalds'  betrayer! 

"  It  will  be  a  low,  scandalous,  Irish  trick ! "  he 
vehemently  burst  forth. 

Weaver  Jimmie's  eyes  brightened.  "  They  would 
be  needing  to  learn  a  lesson,  whatever,"  he  suggested 
tentatively. 

"  Malcolm,"  Mrs.  MacDonald's  voice  came  in 
gently,  "  we  will  surely  not  be  forgetting  that  Tom 
Caldwell  would  be  joining  us  at  the  meetings  these 
last  winters,  and  indeed  we  would  jist  all  be  praying 
together  that  the  Father  would  be  putting  away  all 
strife  from  our  hearts." 

Callum  cast  his  mother  a  look  of  gratitude;  for, 
though  generally  the  first  to  scent  the  battle  from 
afar  and  hasten  its  approach,  for  very  good  reasons 
of  his  own  he  was  on  this  occasion  strongly  inclined 
for  peace.  Big  Malcolm  looked  at  the  gentle  face  of 
his  wife  and  the  fire  died  out  of  his  eyes. 

"  Hoh ! "  he  exclaimed  disdainfully,  "  I  will  not  be 
caring;  let  them  have  their  childish  foolishness  if  it 
will  be  doing  them  any  good,  whatever !  " 


AVENGING     OF     GLENCOE     147 

Weaver  Jimmie  looked  disappointed,  but,  seeing  no 
encouragement  in  the  faces  about  him,  he  reluctantly 
dropped  the  subject.  The  conversation  soon  turned 
from  war  to  a  topic  even  nearer  Jimmie's  heart,  for 
Rory  had  brought  out  his  fiddle  and  now  struck  up 
gaily  the  song  of  the  cruel  Jinny  and  the  hapless 
weaver. 

Before  the  departure  of  the  guests  Scotty  found 
an  opportunity  to  confide  his  troubles  to  Isabel.  He 
could  not  tell  her  exactly  what  was  wrong,  for  that 
meant  confessing  that  Callum  and  Grandaddy  were 
capable  of  mistakes.  But  he  vaguely  hinted  that  he 
was  worried  over  their  hero.  Callum  was  going  to  do 
something,  something  strange  and  new,  but  just  what 
he  could  not  discover.  Isabel  was  equally  perturbed. 
Why  not  ask  Granny?  she  suggested.  She  would  tell 
them.  But  no,  Scotty  explained,  that  was  just  what 
they  must  not  do,  for  it  was  something  that  made 
Granny  sad.  But  Peter  Lauchie  knew ;  Peter  had 
told  him  that  the  shanty  at  the  north  clearing  was  to 
be  fixed  up  for  Callum  to  live  there,  after  harvest; 
and  then  he  laughed  and  would  tell  him  no  more. 

As  usual  Isabel  was  quick  to  suggest  a  way  out  of 
the  difficulty.  Why  should  they  not  go  over  to 
Peter's  place  some  day  and  mcikv  him  tell  all  about  it  ? 
She  wanted  to  see  Betty  again,  anyway,  and  perhaps 


148         THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

Hughie  would  put  up  a  swing  for  them  in  the  barn 
again. 

This  was  a  fine  plan,  and  the  next  week  they  pro- 
ceeded to  put  it  into  execution,  and  with  Kirsty's 
permission  set  off  early  one  morning  for  a  day's  visit 
at  Long  Lauchie's.  Isabel  was  almost  as  well  known 
there  as  Scotty  himself,  so  he  soon  managed  to  leave 
her  in  Betty's  company  and  go  off  to  the  fields  to  seek 
Peter. 

By  judicious  and  persistent  questioning  he  learned 
the  confirmation  of  his  fears.  Yes,  Peter  and  all  the 
boys  knew  what  the  trouble  was.  Callum  was  to  be 
married,  and  to  an  Irish  girl  at  that,  and  of  course 
all  the  MacDonalds  were  highly  disgusted. 

Scotty  listened  in  dismay.  Callum  to  be  married! 
That  itself  was  bad  enough,  people  were  always 
laughed  at  and  chaffed  when  they  got  married,  and 
he  writhed  at  the  thought  of  his  hero  being  in  such  an 
ignominious  position.  But  to  be  married  to  an  Irish 
girl!  Surely  the  MacDonalds  would  be  disgraced 
forever. 

And  yet  Scotty's  heart  forbade  his  taking  sides 
against  Nancy.  She  was  Irish,  certainly  a  deplor- 
able fact,  but  still  she  was  Nancy;  and  though  she 
had  not  been  at  school  for  some  time,  the  boy  had  not 
forgotten  her.  He  sighed  deeply  over  the  complex- 


AVENGING     OF     GLENCOE     149 

ity  of  human  affairs.  This,  then,  was  the  cause  of 
their  unhappiness  at  home,  of  Grandaddy's  muttered 
threats  and  Granny's  distressed  looks. 

He  did  not  understand  that  there  were  stronger 
objections  to  Nancy  in  Granny's  mind  than  the  girl's 
nationality.  Big  Malcolm's  wife  was  growing  old, 
and  the  work  of  the  farmhouse  weighed  heavily  upon 
her.  Ever  since  Callum  had  grown  up  she  had  cher- 
ished the  hope  that  one  day  she  would  have  sweet,  trim 
Mary  Lauchie,  the  finest  girl  in  the  Oa,  and  a  Mac- 
Donald  at  that,  to  take  the  reins  of  government  in 
her  household.  The  loss  of  Mary  would  have  been 
disappointment  enough,  but  Callum's  new  choice  was 
a  great  trial  to  his  patient,  gentle  mother.  The 
thought  of  Nancy  Caldwell  as  a  daughter-in-law, 
even  though  she  was  to  live  at  the  north  clearing, 
instead  of  with  her,  filled  her  with  fear.  For  Nancy 
had  a  reputation  that  had  spread  beyond  the  Flats. 
Since  the  day  she  left  school,  where  she  had  defied 
McAllister  at  his  best,  she  had  ruled  supreme  in  her 
own  home  from  sheer  dauntlessness  of  spirit.  Many 
were  the  tales  told  in  the  Oa  of  her  wild  outlandish 
doings;  how  she  would  dress  up  in  her  brother's 
clothes  and  drive  madly  all  over  the  country;  how 
she  could  ride  an  unbroken  colt  bareback,  and  shoot 
like  a  man,  things  which  everyone  in  the  Oa  knew  no 


150          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

right-minded  young  woman  could  ever  learn.  And 
hadn't  Store  Thompson's  wife  been,  as  she  declared, 
clean  scandalised  by  seeing  the  hussy  cross  the  Oro 
at  the  spring  floods,  standing  erect  in  a  canoe  and 
spreading  out  her  skirts  to  the  gale,  "  Makin'  a  sail  o* 
mesilf ! "  as  she  had  laughingly  declared  when  she 
leaped  ashore. 

Scotty  could  not  force  himself  to  tell  Isabel  the  dis- 
graceful truth ;  he  was  very  quiet  and  gloomy  as  they 
walked  homeward  through  the  golden-lighted  forest. 
But  Isabel  had  had  a  grand  day  with  Betty  and  had 
forgotten  all  about  the  original  purport  of  their  visit. 
She  danced  along  at  his  side  full  of  busy  chatter. 
Didn't  he  love  all  Long  Lauchie's  folks?  She  did; 
for  Betty  was  a  dear  and  Mrs.  Lauchie  was  'most  as 
nice  as  Scotty's  Granny.  But  she  loved  Mary  most 
of  all,  because  she  was  so  kind  and  so  good.  And  did 
Mary  have  the  heartbreak  too,  like  her  auntie  ?  No ; 
Scotty  did  not  see  how  that  was  possible;  for  Mary 
had  never  had  a  dress  ready  for  a  wedding;  nor  a 
fine  soldier  man  who  did  not  come.  But  Isabel  was 
sure  he  was  mistaken.  Yes,  that  was  certainly  what 
Mary  had,  for  her  face  was  so  pale,  and  she  had  the 
same  look  in  her  eyes  that  her  auntie  had  when  her 
wedding  day  came  round,  only  Mary's  eyes  were 
kinder.  But  Scotty  was  not  interested  in  Mary. 


AVENGING     OF     GLENCOE     151 

Callum  absorbed  all  his  thoughts,  and  he  left  Isabel 
at  Kirsty's  and  hurried  home. 

He  found  the  boys  all  gone  and  his  grandfather 
sitting  alone  by  the  door.  Big  Malcolm  was  not 
smoking,  which  was  a  bad  sign,  and  his  grandson  saw 
by  the  look  in  his  eye  that  he  was  not  at  peace.  In 
his  perturbation  over  Callum's  difficult  case  the  boy 
had  not  noticed  that  a  new  undercurrent  of  excite- 
ment was  running  through  life's  everyday  affairs. 

For,  though  Big  Malcolm  had,  with  wonderful 
self-control,  put  aside  his  indignation  at  the  Orange- 
men, all  the  MacDonalds  had  not  done  so.  Weaver 
Jimmie  had  gone  up  over  the  hills  of  the  Oa  like  a 
bearer  of  the  fiery  cross,  and  wherever  he  appeared 
the  beacon-fire  of  anger  had  blazed  forth.  The 
Orangemen  celebrating!  The  MacDonalds  arose  as 
one  man,  and  in  all  the  inherited  fury  of  generations, 
combined  with  as  much  more  produced  for  the  occa- 
sion, banded  together  and  swore  that  before  the  soil 
of  this,  their  new  home,  should  be  polluted  by  a  cele- 
bration in  honour  of  the  MacDonalds'  betrayer,  it 
should  first  be  soaked  with  the  MacDonalds'  blood ! 

To  do  Tom  Caldwell  justice,  he  did  not  at  all  com- 
prehend the  enormity  of  the  offence  he  was  about  to 
commit.  Of  course  the  Orangemen  anticipated  some 
trouble  among  their  Catholic  brethren,  but  rather 


152          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

looked  forward  to  it  as  part  of  their  entertainment. 
For  though  Pat  Murphy  and  his  friends  prophesied 
death  and  destruction  to  the  procession  and  all  that 
had  part  or  lot  in  it,  what  matter  ?  The  country  had 
been  growing  far  too  quiet  since  the  fighting  Mac- 
Donalds  had  taken  to  praying  instead  of  pugilism, 
and  a  little  row  at  the  corner  would  just  stir  things 
up  a  bit  and  make  it  seem  like  old  times.  But  while 
they  gleefully  looked  for  tempests  in  the  Flats,  they 
were  innocently  oblivious  to  the  fact  that  the  for- 
merly peaceful  hills  of  the  Oa  had  been  converted 
into  raging  volcanoes.  Occasionally  vague  rumours 
of  an  eruption  in  the  MacDonald  settlement  did  float 
down  to  King  William  and  his  men,  drilling  in  the 
long  June  evenings,  but  they  drowned  them  in  the 
tooting  of  fifes  and  the  banging  of  drums  and  went 
gaily  on  to  their  doom. 

But  while  the  MacDonalds  raged,  Big  Malcolm 
remained  at  home  alone  or  in  company  with  Long 
Lauchie,  and  fought  with  himself  the  fiercest  battle 
in  which  he  had  ever  engaged.  Not  since  the  day  he 
had  seen  Rory  go  down  under  Pat  Murphy's  feet  had 
he  been  so  sorely  tried.  And  the  MacDonalds  would 
say  he  had  failed  them  because  his  son  was  about  to 
unite  with  one  of  the  Caldwell  crew.  That  was  the 
sting  of  it !  Callum  had  always  been  the  first  in  any 


AVENGING     OF     GLENCOE    153 

aggressive  enterprise  of  the  Oa,  and  Callum  was  now 
conspicuous  by  his  absence.  Sometimes  Big  Mal- 
colm was  fiercely  resolved  to  plunge  headlong  into  the 
commotion  and  compel  his  son  to  join  him.  And 
then  calmer  moments  ensued;  he  could  not  forget 
those  winter  prayer  meetings  and  the  wonderful  leav- 
ening effect  they  had  had  upon  the  community;  nor 
could  he  forget  Praying  Donald's  prophetic  warnings 
that  all  strife  and  enmity  must  certainly  bring 
retribution.  No ;  he  had  forever  put  all  feuds  behind 
him,  he  finally  decided,  and  if  the  MacDonalds  were 
about  to  engage  in  strife  with  the  Orangemen  they 
must  learn  that  he,  Big  Malcolm,  was  far  above  and 
beyond  any  such  unseemly  brawlings. 

But  upon  this  evening  when  Scotty  found  him 
alone  at  the  doorway,  his  grandfather  was  experienc- 
ing none  of  the  settled  calm  that  might  be  expected 
to  follow  such  a  laudable  decision.  For  to-night  the 
MacDonalds  were  holding  another  mass-meeting  at 
the  house  of  Roarin*  Sandy  to  decide  finally  what 
punishment  should  be  meted  out  to  the  reckless 
Orangemen,  and  his  very  soul  was  crying  out  to  be 
with  them. 

Scotty  could  elicit  no  answer  to  his  remarks,  and 
sat  upon  the  doorstep,  a  small,  disconsolate  heap,  won- 
dering sadly  how  his  hero  could  have  made  such  a  mis- 


154          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

take,  and  finding  in  his  own  forlorn  heart  an  echo  of 
the  sweet,  melancholy  evening  music.  Around  him 
the  mosquitoes  wailed  out  their  dreary  little  song; 
away  down  by  the  edge  of  the  wet,  low  pastures,  where 
the  fireflies  wandered,  each  with  his  weird  little  torch, 
the  frogs  were  piping  mournfully.  The  whitethroat 
was  sending  out  his  "  silver  arrows  of  song  "  clearly 
and  pensively  from  the  depths  of  the  velvet  dusk. 
The  discordant  twang  of  the  swooping  night-hawks 
came  down  from  the  pale  clear  sky  where  one  silver 
star  had  come  out  above  the  black  jagged  line  of 
forest. 

Granny  was  moving  about  indoors ;  the  boy  could 
smell  the  sweet  fragrance  of  the  new  warm  milk  she 
was  straining  into  the  pans.  The  air  was  heavy  with 
the  scent  of  clover,  the  world  was  very  peaceful,  but 
very  sad. 

And  then,  out  of  the  soft  murmurs  of  the  summer 
night,  there  grew  a  strange  new  sound.  At  first  it 
seemed  merely  a  movement  of  the  air,  a  peculiar 
thrilling  vibration.  But  gradually  it  grew  into  a 
note,  a  high,  weird  musical  note,  alluring,  electri- 
fying. Scotty  raised  his  head  from  the  grass. 
"  What's  that,  Grandaddy  ?  "  he  asked  sharply.  Big 
Malcolm  did  not  answer ;  he  was  sitting  bolt  upright, 
alert,  tense,  listening  as  if  for  his  life.  For  a  moment 


AVENGING     OF     GLENCOE     155 

the  sound  faded  away,  there  was  a  wondering  silence. 
And  then,  suddenly,  a  little  pine-scented  breeze  came 
sweeping  up  from  Lake  Oro;  and  on  it,  high,  clear, 
entrancing,  commanding,  came  again  that  wild  pene- 
trating call — the  bagpipes !  playing  up  gloriously 
the  MacDonalds'  pibroch ! 

Big  Malcolm  leaped  to  his  feet.  It  was  the  first 
time  he  had  heard  that  sound  since  it  came  ringing  to 
him  over  the  heather  moors  of  his  native  land.  The 
pipes !  The  pipes  on  the  hills  of  Oro !  There  was 
neither  prophecy  nor  precept,  no,  nor  iron  bands  that 
could  have  held  him  at  that  moment.  With  a  wild 
outpouring  of  Gaelic,  he  sprang  forward,  overturn- 
ing the  bench  and  the  water-bucket  by  the  doorstep ; 
and,  coatless  and  hatless,  went  tearing  across  the 
fields  and  down  the  road  in  obedience  to  that  impera- 
tive call. 

"  Granny,  Granny  !  "  cried  Scotty,  running  indoors 
in  alarm,  "  what's  gone  wrong  with  Grandaddy,  will 
he  be  gone  daft?  " 

Granny  raised  her  hands  in  amazement  and  stood 
listening. 

"  Eh,  eh !  "  she  cried,  "  it  will  be  the  pipes !  Och, 
och,  lad,  things  will  be  going  wrong  with  Grandaddy 
now ! " 

The  great  day,  the  12th  of  July,  dawned  radiant 


156          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

in  sunshine  like  any  other  Canadian  summer  day. 
Mr.  Nash  had  made  tremendous  preparations  for  his 
guests.  He  had  his  family  up  long  before  dawn  and 
by  dint  of  much  fluency  of  language,  for  which  he 
was  famous,  managed  by  eleven  o'clock  to  have  the 
banquet  in  readiness.  Tables  were  set  in  the  dining- 
room  and  barroom,  which  two  chambers  constituted 
the  ground  floor  of  the  hotel  proper.  The  lean-to 
kitchen  at  the  back  was  steaming  with  all  the  good 
things  Mrs.  Nash  and  her  daughters  and  the  assisting 
neighbours  had  prepared;  and  by  half -past  eleven 
the  host,  in  a  clean  shirt  and  his  Sunday  trousers, 
stood  on  the  front  step  ready  to  receive  with  due  cere- 
mony the  expected  company. 

Store  Thompson's  place  across  the  way  was  sur- 
rounded by  a  crowd  of  eager  spectators,  for  such  a 
spectacle  as  a  procession  had  not  been  witnessed  in 
the  Glen  within  the  memory  of  the  earliest  settler. 
Then  there  were  rumours  of  trouble  too ;  Pat  Murphy 
and  his  friends  were  there  ready  to  produce  it;  and 
besides,  everyone  suspected  that  the  MacDonalds  had 
some  scheme  afoot.  Store  Thompson  himself  was 
excited.  He  had  not  seen  Big  Malcolm  for  more 
than  a  fortnight,  and  he  was  anxious  about  his  war- 
like friend.  Surely,  he  told  himself  a  dozen  times, 
Malcolm  would  never  break  forth  into  strife  again 


AVENGING     OF     GLENCOE     157 

after  the  stand  he  had  been  taking  during  the  past 
few  winters  for  the  bettering  of  the  community.  And 
yet,  as  the  kindly  old  gentleman  confided  to  Sandy 
Hamilton,  who  had  stopped  the  mill  and  come  up  to 
see  what  was  transpiring,  he  could  not  help  feeling 
"  a  wee  thing  apprehensive-like." 

A  few  minutes  before  twelve,  the  appointed  hour 
for  the  procession  to  appear,  the  patience  of  the 
crowd  was  rewarded.  Pat  Murphy  had  just  assem- 
bled his  satellites  in  the  middle  of  the  road  and  was 
haranguing  them  and,  incidentally,  all  the  town- 
ship of  Oro  upon  their  duties,  when  a  loud,  shrill 
yell  from  the  hilltops  rent  the  air;  there  was  a  dull 
thud,  thud  of  marching  feet.  The  procession  was 
coming !  For  a  moment  nationalities  and  creeds  were 
both  forgotten  in  a  common  desire  to  witness  the 
spectacle.  English,  Irish,  and  Scotch  crowded  ea- 
gerly into  the  road;  every  eye  was  turned  towards 
the  south  hill.  Yes,  the  procession  was  certainly  com- 
ing, but  what  was  this  unearthly  noise  it  was  making? 
And  where  were  the  fifes  and  the  drums?  And  why, 
in  the  name  of  all  the  cardinal  points,  was  it  coming 
down  the  north  hill  from  the  Oa,  instead  of  from  the 
Flats? 

And  then  there  were  no  more  questions,  but  just 
a  sea  of  silent  faces  held  upwards  in  gaping  amaze- 


158          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

ment,  for  out  from  the  pine  grove  of  the  northern 
river-bank,  with  a  shriek  of  pipes  and  a  flutter  of 
plaids,  whirled  Fiddlin'  Archie  MacDonald  in  full 
Highland  costume;  and  behind  him,  armed  and 
menacing,  tramped  every  available  male  of  the  clan 
MacDonald,  from  Long  Lauchie's  seventeen-year-old 
Peter,  up  to — yes,  alas  for  the  new  era  and  its  re- 
forms ! — Big  Malcolm  himself,  all  in  perfect  time  to 
the  wild  yell  of  the  MacDonald  pibroch ! 

Down  they  swept  like  a  Highland  charge,  the 
pipes  screaming  out  a  fierce  challenge  to  anyone 
reckless  enough  to  stand  in  their  path,  and  awaken- 
ing such  warlike  echoes  in  the  Oro  hills  as  they  had 
not  given  back  since  the  days  when  they  rang  to 
the  war-whoop  of  Huron  and  Iroquois  braves. 

And,  indeed,  had  an  army  of  redskins  in  war  paint 
and  feathers  appeared  upon  the  hill,  it  is  doubtful 
if  it  would  have  created  any  more  excitement.  For, 
though  the  Oa  was  a  Highland  settlement,  the  bag- 
pipes had  hitherto  been  an  unknown  instrument  in 
the  township  of  Oro.  Hard  work  and  hard  times 
had  precluded  the  indulgence  in  any  such  luxury, 
so  the  startled  population  of  the  valley  witnessed 
for  the  first  time  that  magnificent  combination  of 
sight  and  sound  known  as  a  Highland  Piper. 

Upon  Pete  Nash  the  effect  was  almost  disastrous, 


The  expectant  host  had  been  fortifying  himself 
rather  copiously  against  the  duties  and  trials  of 
the  day,  and  his  brain  was  in  no  condition  to  bear 
any  such  strain  as  the  appearance  of  Fiddlin'  Archie 
put  upon  it. 

At  the  first  sound  he  rushed  into  the  road,  his 
eyes  bulging  with  horror,  his  hands  held  up  as  if 
to  ward  off  a  blow.  For  Peter  had  once  been  a 
good  Catholic  and  knew  he  was  committing  a  deadly 
sin  in  harbouring  these  Orange  heretics ;  and  here, 
surely,  were  the  hosts  of  the  Evil  One,  coming  with 
shrieks  of  wrath  to  snatch  away  his  guilty  soul  in 
the  midst  of  his  iniquity.  His  distracted  wife  bounded 
after  him,  a  half -washed  frying  pan  in  one  hand,  a 
dishcloth  in  the  other ;  and  seeing  what  was  descend- 
ing upon  them  she  dropped  both  utensils  and  wailed, 
"  Och,  the  Powers  come  down,  Pater !  is  it  Gabriel's 
trump,  then  ?  " 

No  one  noticed  the  stricken  pair,  for  all  eyes  were 
fixed  upon  the  advancing  column.  Right  up  to  the 
tavern  door  it  marched,  and  when  the  pipes  ceased 
with  a  final  defiant  yelp,  Big  Malcolm,  his  eyes  blaz- 
ing, his  head  erect,  stepped  forward  and  addressed 
the  still  trembling,  but  much  relieved,  proprietor. 

"  We  will  be  needing  our  dinner,  Peter,"  he  said 
very  mildly,  "  for  we  would  be  having  a  long  walk, 


160         THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

and  mebby  some  work  ahead  of  us,  whatever,  so  I 
hope  you  will  jist  be  bringin'  it  on  queek." 

There  was  something  in  the  intense  politeness  of 
Big  Malcolm's  tone  that  aroused  Mr.  Nash's  worst 
fears ;  a  MacDonald  was  never  so  dangerous  as  when 
he  was  courteous. 

"  And  is  it  dinner  for  all  this  raft  ye'll  be  after 
wantin',  Malcolm  MacDonald?  "  he  cried  in  alarm. 
"  Sure,  ye  know  I  can't  give  ye  a  bite  nor  sup  the 
day,  man ;  the  byes  from  the  Flats " 

"  Whisht  yer  tongue,  Pete  Nash !  "  Big  Malcolm's 
suavity  vanished  like  a  wisp  of  straw  in  a  flame. 
"  Bring  on  yer  grub,  man,  or  " — he  brought  down 
his  big  fist  upon  the  nearest  table  with  a  crash  that 
made  both  the  crockery  and  its  owner  leap — "  we'll 
be  eating  your  old  carcass  on  the  doorstep ! " 

Mr.  Nash  gave  a  prompt  and  obsequious  obedience. 
The  Fighting  MacDonalds  individually  must  ever  be 
treated  with  respect,  but  the  Fighting  MacDonalds 
in  a  body!  Surely  not  the  most  vivid  Orangeman 
could  blame  him  in  his  extremity.  Perhaps  the  dis- 
tracted landlord  felt  that,  after  all,  here  was  a  provi- 
dential means  of  escape  from  the  crime  he  had  been 
about  to  commit,  for  very  soon  he  had  all  Glencoe 
seated  about  the  well-spread  tables,  devouring  the 
banquet  prepared  for  William  of  Orange. 


AVENGING     OF     GLENCOE     161 

The  MacDonalds  attacked  the  unholy  viands  with  a 
zest  that  not  even  a  long  tramp  and  a  pioneer  appetite 
could  quite  explain.  Mrs.  Nash  flew  back  and  forth 
hospitably,  explaining  to  her  satellites,  to  cover  up 
any  apparent  irregularity  in  her  husband's  sudden 
change  of  patronage,  that  indeed  they  were  always 
pleased  to  have  the  MacDonalds  with  them,  and  that 
she,  for  one,  was  very  glad  to  see  a  Scotchman  dressed 
the  right  way. 

"  Sure  Oi've  got  a  sister  in  the  owld  country,  mar- 
ried to  a  Scotchman,  thin,"  she  explained  quite 
proudly  to  Judy  Connors.  "  He's  in  a  Kiltie  rig'ment, 
an'  his  name's  Pat  O'Nale,  an'  aw  now,  it  was  him 
that  had  the  foine  way  o'  swishin'  his  kilt  whin  he 
walked,  indade ! " 

Meantime  the  feast  was  progressing;  the  great 
roasts  of  pork,  the  pies,  the  cakes,  and  the  puddings 
were  vanishing  like  the  snow  on  a  March  noonday, 
when  once  more  the  assembly  outside  the  tavern  was 
electrified,  this  time  from  the  proper  source.  For 
from  the  summit  of  the  north  hill  there  arose  such 
a  mighty  banging  and  tooting  as  might  have  been 
heard  had  the  new  sawmill,  lately  built  on  the  shore 
of  Lake  Simcoe,  taken  legs  and  gone  on  a  mad  ex- 
cursion up  over  the  Oro  hills. 

Down  the  slope  with  waving  banners  and  thump- 


162         THE     SILVER    MAPLE 

ing  drums  rode  King  William  himself  in  brave  array, 
mounted  on  a  white  steed  which  bore  a  strong  resem- 
blance to  Tom  Caldwell's  old  grey  mare,  and  followed 
by  a  troop  of  loyal  subjects,  all  to  the  stirring  squeak 
of  "  The  Protestant  Boys." 

At  the  sight  of  this  magnificent  army  marching 
straight  into  the  jaws  of  disaster,  Pat  Murphy  ut- 
tered a  yell  of  triumph  that  put  the  fifes  and  drums 
to  shame.  Reckless  with  joy,  he  flew  into  the  mid- 
dle of  the  road,  and  standing  there  facing  the  oncom- 
ing multitude,  his  wild  eyes  blazing,  his  red  beard  and 
hair  flaring  out  in  all  directions,  he  shook  his  huge 
fist  at  the  unoffending  skies  and  called  upon  the 
sun  and  the  moon  and  all  things  created  to  witness 
the  downfall  of  his  enemies. 

Fortunately  for  the  usurpers,  the  steed  of  state 
which  King  William  bestrode,  though  old  and  de- 
crepit, still  adhered  to  a  youthful  habit  of  shying, 
or  the  procession  might  never  have  reached  the  Mac- 
Donalds.  But,  as  the  old  grey  mare  approached  the 
raving  obstacle  in  her  path,  she  swerved  coquettishly 
and  King  William  curvetted  round  his  enemy  with 
royal  indifference.  His  subjects  wisely  followed  his 
example;  the  procession  divided  and  streamed  noisily 
on  both  sides  of  the  profane  wedge  which  had  cloven 
it,  and  which  gallantly  held  its  position  waving  its 


AVENGING     OF     GLENCOE    163 

arms  and  howling  forth  derision  until  the  last 
Orangemen  had  swept  past. 

But  as  the  revellers  tooted  their  victorious  way 
down  the  street  towards  the  tavern,  a  strange  sensa- 
tion of  impending  disaster  made  itself  felt.  The 
unwelcome  fact  began  to  dawn  upon  the  Orangemen 
that  the  clamour  about  them  was  neither  composed 
of  acclamation,  nor  yet  of  the  expected  tumult  of 
the  outraged  Murphys. 

The  suspicion  grew  to  a  horrible  certainty  by  the 
time  their  destination  was  reached,  and  the  instant  the 
procession  halted,  King  William,  forgetting  his  royal 
dignity,  scrambled  from  his  horse  and  led  a  hasty 
charge  against  the  doors  and  windows  of  the  tavern. 
Their  apprehension  had  been  too  correct.  There, 
sitting  at  the  Orangemen's  feast,  were  forty-nine 
armed  MacDonalds,  while  the  fiftieth  swept  round 
the  tables,  his  plaid  flying,  his  kilt  waving,  his  rib- 
bons streaming,  and  his  pipes  shrieking  as  if  they 
would  fain  split  the  roof! 

It  was  a  crucial  moment  for  the  Glen ;  and,  look- 
ing from  his  vantage  point  on  the  verandah,  Store 
Thompson  held  his  breath.  That  the  Orangemen 
even  hesitated  to  pitch  themselves  headlong  upon  the 
usurpers  showed  that  in  the  past  two  years  the  forces 
that  make  for  law  and  order  had  been  steadily  work- 


164          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

ing.  However  it  might  be,  they  hesitated.  Perhaps 
they  were  assisted  to  a  pacific  decision  by  the  sight 
before  them.  There  is  nothing  so  disastrous  to  a 
man's  fighting  qualities  as  an  empty  stomach.  King 
William  and  his  followers  looked  at  their  dinner  rap- 
idly disappearing  into  the  capacious  interiors  of 
Glencoe ;  they  looked  at  the  stout  clubs  beneath  the 
table;  they  glanced  over  their  shoulders  at  Pat 
Murphy  and  his  men,  waiting  eagerly  for  the  Mac- 
Donalds  to  strike;  they  gazed  at  the  terrible  spec- 
tacle of  Fiddlin'  Archie,  whirling  round  the  room  in 
an  eddy  of  defiant  yells;  and  the  sights  counselled 
discretion,  rather  than  valour. 

Slowly  and  sullenly  they  began  to  fall  back  from 
the  doors  and  windows.  Even  King  William  was 
about  to  join  the  retreat  when,  in  glaring  fiercely 
round  the  tables,  his  eye  chanced  to  fall  upon  the 
man  whose  family  was  so  soon  to  be  connected  with 
his  own.  At  the  sight,  the  royal  rage,  already  at 
boiling  point,  burst  all  bounds.  Sticking  his  crowned 
head  far  in  through  the  window,  and  forgetting  that 
he  had  made  a  league  with  the  MacDonalds  to  bring 
about  a  season  of  peace  and  good-will  in  the  com- 
munity, Mr.  Caldwell  burst  into  wild  and  profane 
vituperation.  Commencing  with  Big  Malcolm  at 
the  head  of  the  table,  and,  taking  each  in  turn,  he 


AVENGING     OF     GLENCOE     165 

roundly  and  lengthily  denounced  the  MacDonalds 
and  all  their  generation;  and  ended  his  mad  tirade 
by  vowing  by  all  things  in  heaven  and  on  earth  that 
before  a  daughter  of  his  should  unite  with  any  such 
scum  of  savagery  as  was  produced  in  the  Oa,  her 
father  would  strike  her  dead! 

Such  snatches  of  the  royal  ultimatum  as  managed 
to  penetrate  the  scream  of  the  pipes  the  MacDonalds 
heard  in  silence.  Occasionally  a  pair  of  fierce  eyes 
would  dart  a  look  of  inquiry  towards  the  leader,  and 
once  or  twice  Weaver  Jimmie  half  rose  from  the 
table;  but,  with  wonderful  endurance,  Big  Malcolm 
held  his  men  and  himself  down.  He  had  broken  his 
great  resolution,  but  even  in  his  abandonment  he  could 
not  quite  get  away  from  the  strong  influence  at 
home.  No,  he  would  not  fight,  not  unless  Tom  Cald- 
well  pressed  him  too  hard,  and  this  refusal  to  accept 
Callum  into  his  family  was  nothing  short  of  a 
blessing. 

At  last,  through  sheer  dearth  of  remaining  epi- 
thets, the  royal  address  came  to  a  termination.  With 
much  brandishing  of  fists  and  shouting  of  threats, 
the  chagrined  and  hungry  would-be  revellers  melted 
away  before  the  sound  of  the  MacDonalds'  jig  and 
the  Murphy  s'  jeers. 

And  when  the  last  atom  of  the  banquet  had  been 


166          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

demolished  and  the  landlord  paid  to  the  utmost  farth- 
ing the  MacDonalds  arose,  and,  headed  by  their  piper, 
went  roaring  up  to  their  native  hills,  fired  with  the 
triumphant  assurance  that  they  had  that  day  per- 
formed a  great  and  glorious  deed,  and  that  at  last 
Glencoe  had  been  avenged. 


VIII 


There  was  a  time  I  learned  to  hate, 
As  weaker  mortals  learn  to  love; 
The  passion  held  me  fixed  as  fate, 
Burned  in  my  veins  early  and  late, 
But  now  a  wind  falls  from  above — 
The  wind  of  death,  that  silently 
Enshroudeth  friend  and  enemy. 

— ETHELWYX    WETHEEALD. 

TO  Scotty  the  days  following  upon  the 
Orangemen's  defeat  were  filled  with  misery. 
Even  when  he  spent  the  time  at  Kirsty's, 
fishing  in  the  streams  or  racing  in  the  woods  with 
Isabel,  he  could  never  quite  forget  that  there  was 
trouble  in  the  lately  happy  home  beneath  the  Silver 
Maple.  For  Granny's  face  was  full  of  pain  and 
anxiety,  though  she  was  so  brave  and  patient;  and 
Grandaddy  walked  the  floor  at  nights  or  tramped 
up  and  down  beneath  the  stars,  and  Callum  was 
silent  and  gloomy. 

Scotty  did  not  understand  just  how  much  reason 
Callum  had  for  gloom.     That  young  man  had  to  con- 

167 


168          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

tend  with  foes  both  at  home  and  abroad.  Tom  Cald- 
well  had  lost  no  time,  upon  his  return  home  the  never- 
to-be-forgotten  night  of  the  Orangemen's  downfall, 
in  making  very  clear  to  his  daughter  his  views  upon 
the  burning  MacDonald  question.  Nancy  had  re- 
sponded, with  her  usual  spirit,  by  declaring  that,  when 
the  day  arrived,  she  would  marry  Callum  Fiach  if 
the  heavens  fell.  The  father  understood  his  daugh- 
ter's spirit  and  took  no  risk ;  the  Caldwell  home- 
stead was  guarded  by  armed  men  in  quite  a  mediaeval 
fashion;  Nancy  was  kept  in  strict  seclusion  and  a 
cordial  invitation  was  sent  to  Callum  to  come  on  the 
wedding  day  with  all  the  MacDonalds  he  could  mus- 
ter and  take  his  bride. 

Callum  would  have  gladly  accepted  the  challenge 
had  there  been  any  hope  of  assistance.  But  when 
Big  Malcolm  returned  from  the  glorious  defeat  of 
the  Orangemen,  his  spirit  still  aflame,  the  sight  of 
his  son,  who  had  taken  no  part  in  their  triumph, 
stirred  him  to  fierce  resentment. 

"  Callum ! "  he  cried  sternly,  "  I  will  be  hearing 
no  more  about  you  and  any  o'  yon  low  Eerish  crew. 
It  is  not  for  my  son  to  be  disgracing  the  MacDonalds 
after  this  day's  work !  " 

Callum's  face  went  suddenly  white  and  he  rose 
from  the  table.  "  If  you  mean  Nancy  Caldwell,"  he 


THE     END     OF     THE     FEUD     169 

cried,  "  let  me  be  telling  you  that  I'll  marry  her  if 
she  was  the  daughter  o'  the  Deil,  himself ! " 

Big  Malcolm  rose  to  his  feet  also,  and  the  two  men 
faced  each  other  fiercely.  "  The  day  ye  marry  any 
kin  to  that  son  o'  Belial,  Callum  MacDonald,"  he 
roared,  shaking  his  fist  in  his  son's  face,  "  you  will 
be  no  more  a  son  of  mine !  " 

Callum  laughed  harshly,  and  flung  out  of  doors. 
Scotty's  big  heart  sweUed  to  bursting.  Grandaddy 
and  Callum  quarrelling!  It  was  too  awful  to  be  be- 
lieved. He  dared  not  look  at  Granny's  face,  for  he 
dreaded  what  he  would  see  there,  but  he  crept  up 
close  to  where  she  sat  by  the  bare  table,  her  face  in 
her  hands,  her  breath  coming  in  long  sobs.  Granny's 
heart  was  breaking,  he  was  sure,  and  his  own  heart 
was  breaking,  too,  for  her,  and  for  Callum,  and  for 
everyone. 

The  days  that  followed  did  not  lighten  the  misery. 
Big  Malcolm's  repentance  came  over  him  like  a  flood 
of  many  waters.  He  left  the  farm  to  the  care  of  the 
boys,  and  sat  in  the  house,  or  wandered  in  the  fields, 
plunged  in  the  deepest  humiliation  and  despair.  One 
look  at  his  wife's  sad  face  would  drive  him  to  the 
barn  or  the  woods,  where  he  would  sit,  Job-like,  and 
curse  the  day  he  was  born.  Like  Job,  too,  he  had 
three  comforters  who,  though  well-meaning  and  kind, 


170 

served  only  to  deepen  his  spiritual  gloom.  Neither 
Store  Thompson's  solemn  admonitions  nor  Praying 
Donald's  hints  of  stern  retribution  were  calculated 
to  relieve  his  mind ;  and  when  Long  Lauchie  came 
across  the  fields  on  a  Sabbath  afternoon  to  mourn 
over  him  and  see  dire  fulfilment  of  prophecy  in  his 
woeful  case,  he  was  driven  to  the  verge  of  desperation. 

There  was  no  pleasure  at  home,  and  whenever 
Scotty  had  an  opportunity  he  went  visiting  in  the 
direction  of  Kirsty's.  Isabel's  companionship  af- 
forded him  much  solace,  and  through  her  wonderful 
ingenuity  came  at  last  a  way  out  of  his  despair. 

At  first  he  had  been  reluctant  to  confide  his  trou- 
bles even  to  her;  he  knew  that  Granny  would  speak 
of  them  to  no  one  except  the  one  great  Comforter, 
no,  not  even  to  Kirsty's  mother;  so  he  nursed  his 
mournful  secret  through  one  long  miserable  day. 
But  Isabel's  eyes  were  very  bright  and  soon  spied 
the  trouble  in  Scotty's  face.  So  one  day,  as  they 
sat  on  the  edge  of  the  old  log  bridge  and  swung 
their  feet  in  the  cool,  brown  water,  he  opened  his 
heart  fully. 

To  the  boy's  relief  she  seemed  to  think  none  the 
less  of  Callum  for  wanting  to  marry  an  Irish  girl. 
Some  Irish  people  weren't  bad,  she  declared.  For 
her  Uncle  Walter  and  Aunt  Eleanor  were  half  Irish. 


THE     END     OF     THE     FEUD     171 

Maybe  she  was  some  Irish  herself,  she  generously 
conceded,  but,  at  Scotty's  look  of  incredulous  dismay, 
she  hastily  concluded  that  she  must  be  entirely  and 
exclusively  Scotch.  But  there  was  Danny  Murphy, 
that  nice  boy  who  brought  her  the  maple  sugar  and 
the  butternuts,  he  was  Irish;  yes,  and  old  Brian, 
their  coachman,  was  Irish  and  said  "  begorra,"  and 
Brian  was  a  dear.  And  very  likely  Nancy  must 
be  one  of  the  nice  Irish,  or  Callum  would  not  want 
to  marry  her.  And  if  they  did  not  let  him  marry 
her,  then  that  would  be  an  awful  thing,  for  if  Cal- 
lum failed  to  appear  on  the  wedding  day  Nancy 
would  certainly  take  the  heartbreak,  like  Aunt 
Eleanor,  and  be  sick  forever  and  ever,  and  have  to 
lie  for  days  in  a  dark  room  and  have  headaches  and 
nasty  medicine. 

Scotty's  heart  was  wrung  at  the  awful  prospect. 
Was  Isabel  sure  ?  Why,  of  course,  she  knew  all  about 
heartbreak  and  disappointments  and  such  things. 
Scotty  declared  desperately  that  something  must  be 
done.  And  without  an  instant's  meditation  Isabel 
burst  forth  with  the  brilliant  suggestion — why  could 
they  not  take  their  pirate  ship,  sail  down  the  Oro 
to  the  Flats  and  carry  Nancy  off  bodily? 

Scotty  was  dazzled.  This  was  a  thrilling  project, 
entailing,  as  it  did,  an  adventure  in  their  wonderful 


172         THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

vessel.  For  some  time  before  the  close  of  school 
he  and  Danny  Murphy  had  been  copartners  in  a 
tremendous  secret  enterprise.  Down  in  the  green 
tunnel  made  by  the  "  Birch  Crick,"  where  it  foamed 
along  through  a  tangle  of  timber  and  underbrush, 
until  it  found  its  way  into  the  Oro,  they  had  discov- 
ered, early  that  spring,  a  derelict  punt.  This  craft 
had  come  like  an  answer  to  prayer ;  they  had  patched 
it  up,  launched  it,  and,  before  the  holidays,  had 
spent  aboard  its  rotten  timbers  days  of  perfectly 
abandoned  joy.  Several  times,  indeed,  they  had 
made  adventurous  voyages  out  upon  the  Oro  itself, 
and  had  had  hairbreadth  escapes,  for  the  vessel 
leaked  and  accidents  were  frequent.  But  every  boy 
of  Number  Nine  school  was  an  amphibious  animal, 
and  such  small  things  as  shipwrecks  mattered  little. 
With  the  close  of  school  these  happy  excursions  had 
to  be  given  up.  Only  once  had  the  boys  been  on  a 
voyage  since,  and  then  Isabel  had  accompanied  them, 
and  they  had  not  gone  far.  But  here  was  a  chance 
to  go  on  a  wonderful  tour.  They  would  sail  down 
to  the  Flats  and  steal  Nancy;  perhaps  they  would 
even  take  a  voyage  down  to  Lake  Simcoe  and  away 
out  upon  the  Atlantic  Ocean  and  have  fights  with 
pirates  and  Fenians.  Scotty's  ambition  was  fired 
tc  be  away  at  once,  but  there  was  one  trouble — Isabel 


THE     END     OF     THE     FEUD     173 

herself.  She  was  all  right  at  home,  but  her  habit 
of  hanging  on  to  his  coat  with  both  hands  when  dan- 
ger threatened  would  be  embarrassing  in  public,  and 
he  did  not  even  dare  to  think  what  Danny  would 
say  if  he  saw  him  in  such  a  disgraceful  plight.  And 
then  he  conceived  the  rest  of  the  brilliant  plan  him- 
self. They  would  not  steal  Nancy  away  this  time, 
but  they  would  go  to  the  Birch  Crick,  and  if  Danny 
was  there  they  would  send  a  message  by  him  to  Nancy, 
asking  her  if  she  would  not  like  to  be  kidnapped,  and 
he  mentally  resolved  that  Isabel  could  be  put  off 
while  he  and  Danny  performed  the  glorious  deed. 

Isabel,  quite  innocent  of  his  traitorous  plot, 
agreed  to  this  modification  of  her  plan ;  and  the 
next  morning,  having  obtained  Kirsty's  reluctant  per- 
mission to  go  on  an  indefinite  fishing  expedition,  they 
set  off  down  the  Scotch  Line,  bursting  with  excite- 
ment. 

The  Birch  Creek  crossed  the  road,  flowing  cool 
and  brown  beneath  the  old  log  bridge;  a  fine  place 
for  paddling  with  bare  feet,  but  the  two  adven- 
turers had  no  time  for  any  such  trivial  pastime. 
They  plunged  into  the  undergrowth  and  followed  the 
stream  through  a  riotous  confusion  of  long  grasses 
and  shrubs,  where  the  yellow  touch-me-not,  the  pink 
willow  weed,  the  tall  white  turtle-head,  and  the  blaz- 


174          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

ing  golden-rod  grew  in  a  tangle  of  wild  beauty. 
They  scrambled  along  with  joyous  shouts,  sometimes 
on  land,  more  often  in  the  water.  Frequently  they 
had  to  stoop  and  crawl  beneath  the  green  canopy  of 
birch  and  elm  and  willow  that  covered  the  stream  and 
through  which  the  golden  sunbeams  scarcely  strug- 
gled to  the  cool,  brown  surface.  Out  in  the  open 
spaces  the  dragon  fly  darted  here  and  there  like  a 
little  blue  spear.  The  shy  trout  fled  dismayed  before 
the  two  noisy  intruders;  the  waxen  blossoms  of  the 
arrowhead,  the  broad  shining  leaves  and  golden- 
hearted  blossoms  of  the  water  lily  and  the  stately  blue 
spikes  of  the  pickerel  weed  bent  before  their  ruth- 
less tramping.  A  kingfisher,  startled  from  his  day's 
work  by  the  uproarious  pair,  shot  down  the  stream, 
his  derisive  laugh  echoing  far  through  the  leafy 
avenue.  The  two  almost  forgot  the  great  import  of 
their  journey  in  its  delight.  Scotty  splashed  ahead, 
capering  from  fallen  log  to  sunken  stump ;  and  after 
him  came  his  faithful  follower,  bespattered  with  mud, 
dripping  wet,  even  to  the  crown  of  her  golden  curls, 
and  filling  the  air  with  her  joyous  shrieks  of  laughter 
over  Scotty 's  wild  antics. 

And  to  crown  their  happy  excursion,  as  they  came 
round  a  sudden  bend  in  the  stream,  there  came  a 
splashing  sound  ahead;  a  welcoming  shout  greeted 


THE     END    OF     THE    FEUD     175 

them,  and  here  was  Danny  sailing  down  upon  them, 
his  red  head  shining  like  a  beacon  in  the  stern  of  the 
pirate  ship !  They  wasted  very  little  time  in  making 
known  the  grave  reason  for  their  visit,  and  to  their 
surprise  they  found  that  Danny  knew  much  more 
about  the  Caldwell-MacDonald  trouble  than  they 
did. 

Sure,  wasn't  his  brother  Mike  telling  them  only 
last  night  that  Nancy  wasn't  allowed  to  go  outside 
the  gate,  though  she  fought  like  a  tiger  about  it; 
and  Tom  Caldwell  had  said  he'd  kill  Callum  Fiach 
if  he  came  near  the  place ;  and  Nancy  had  said  she'd 
murder  anybody  that  laid  a  finger  on  him.  Nancy 
was  good  stuff,  and  if  there  was  any  scheme  for  out- 
witting the  Caldwells,  Danny  was  their  man. 

But  this  was  grave  news,  and  somewhat  dampening 
to  the  ardour  of  the  adventurous  spirits. 

So  they  pulled  the  old  punt  up  under  the  birches 
and  sat  in  it  with  their  three  heads,  black,  gold  and 
red,  very  close  together,  and  concocted  a  new  plan. 
The  line  of  procedure  finally  settled  upon  was  not 
quite  so  romantic  as  Scotty  had  intended,  but  it  an- 
swered. Danny  had  access  to  the  Caldwell  home; 
no  one  would  suspect  him;  he  must  see  Nancy,  and 
offer  their  services  as  well  as  those  of  their  vessel, 
and  meanwhile  Scotty  was  to  interview  Callum,  and 


176          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

if  he  had  any  message  to  send  to  Nancy,  then  Danny 
would  carry  it. 

They  all  went  home  bursting  with  their  prodigious 
secret;  and  Scotty,  whose  forest  breeding  had  made 
reticence  easy,  never  ceased  all  the  way  home  to  warn 
Isabel  of  the  fearful  consequences  of  disclosure. 

He  could  scarcely  wait  for  an  opportunity  to  speak 
to  Callum  alone,  but  at  last  supper  was  over  and  the 
chores  all  done;  and  he  crept  out  to  the  barn  where 
he  had  seen  the  young  man  disappear.  He  found  him 
in  the  loft,  lying  gloomily  upon  the  hay ;  and,  hesi- 
tating and  fearful  lest  Callum  would  ridicule  or  blame 
him  for  his  interference,  he  made  his  confession.  Cal- 
lum suddenly  sat  up  and  gazed  into  the  bright  eager 
face  with  its  big  sparkling  eyes.  He  sprang  to  his 
feet. 

"  Horo ! "  he  shouted,  and  catching  the  boy  up 
flung  him  over  his  head  into  the  hay ;  and  when  Scotty 
came  laughing  and  breathless  to  his  feet  he  was  filled 
with  amazement  and  concern  to  see  that  there  were 
tears  in  Callum's  eyes. 

And  so  a  letter  was  carried,  but  not  without  dif- 
ficulties encountered.  Kirsty  proved  the  first  ob- 
stacle. She  declared  she  was  just  going  to  put  a 
stop  to  such  stravogin',  and  would  not  let  the  lass 
go  near  that  dirty  crick  again,  for  she  always  came 


THE     END     OF     THE     FEUD     177 

home  wringing  wet.  Isabel  swept  away  this  barrier 
in  a  flood  of  tears,  and  all  other  difficulties  were  met 
and  dealt  with  in  an  equally  summary  manner. 
Danny's  dangerous  part  of  the  task  was  executed 
with  wonderful  skill  and  an  answer  was  piloted  safely 
back. 

They  were  all  three  somewhat  disappointed  when 
Callum  announced  that  the  proceedings  must  stop 
there.  Danny  was  inclined  to  rebel,  and  Isabel  failed 
to  explain  such  conduct.  But  Scotty  found  ample 
compensation  for  their  restriction  in  the  happy 
change  in  Callum.  His  old  gaiety  came  back,  his 
eyes  sparkled,  and  he  would  snatch  up  Isabel  and  go 
leaping  about  the  house  with  her  perched  shrieking 
upon  his  shoulder,  just  as  he  used  to  do  in  the  happy 
days  before  the  Orangemen  came  to  blight  their  home. 

Matters  were  improving  in  other  places  too.  Big 
Malcolm's  second  stage  of  repentance,  a  period  of 
prayer  and  fasting,  had  passed;  he  had  come  once 
more  into  his  old  contented  state,  sure  of  the  forgive- 
ness of  his  Heavenly  Father  for  the  wrong  done,  and 
determined  by  His  grace  never  again  to  fall.  News 
reached  the  Oa,  too,  that  Nancy  Caldwell  had  sud- 
denly given  up  her  rebellious  outbursts  and  had  set- 
tled down  meekly  to  her  fate,  and  Tom  Caldwell 
boasted  all  over  the  Flats  that  she  wouldn't  take 


178          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

Callum  Fiach  if  all  the  MacDonalds  in  the  Oa  came 
to  back  him  up. 

And  so  Scotty  found  life  happy  again,  and  he  and 
Isabel  once  more  settled  down  contentedly  to  house- 
keeping beneath  the  Silver  Maple.  But  the  summer 
passed  and  old  Brian  came  and  took  his  comrade 
away,  and  Scotty  wept  secretly  in  the  haymow  all 
the  evening  after  her  departure. 

The  next  morning  he  arose  with  a  distinct  con- 
sciousness of  loss  sustained.  Isabel  was  not  the  only 
one  who  had  left  apparently.  When  they  sat  down 
to  breakfast  Callum  had  not  yet  appeared.  No  one 
marked  his  absence  until  Big  Malcolm  came  in  from 
the  barn. 

"  Where  will  Callum  be?  "  he  inquired  as  he  helped 
himself  to  his  porridge.  Rory  kept  his  eyes  upon  his 
plate,  but  Hamish  answered  in  a  troubled  tone,  "  I'll 
not  know,  father.  Mebby  he  would  be  at  the  north 
clearing,  whatever.  He  would  not  be  coming  home 
last  night." 

Big  Malcolm  continued  his  meal  with  knitted  brows. 
Suddenly  he  looked  up  and  caught  a  startled  expres- 
sion in  his  wife's  eyes. 

"What  is  it?  "  he  asked  anxiously. 

Mrs.  MacDonald's  fingers  were  working  tremu- 
lously with  the  hem  of  her  apron.  "  I  would  be  think- 


THE     END     OF     THE     FEUD     179 

ing,"  she  faltered,  "  it  will  be  the  day — the  day  that 
was  set ! " 

"  Hoots !  "  cried  Big  Malcolm,  "  that  will  be  noth- 
ing, whatever." 

But  a  sudden  ominous  silence  fell  over  the  break- 
fast table;  this  was  to  have  been  Callum' s  wedding 
day,  and  Callum  had  not  appeared.  The  stillness  was 
broken  by  Bruce,  who  rose  up  from  underneath  the 
table  with  the  short  bark  that  announced  a  well-known 
visitor.  A  shadow  fell  over  the  threshold,  still  pink 
in  the  glow  of  the  rising  sun.  Big  Malcolm  looked 
up  in  surprise. 

"  You  will  be  early,  Jimmie !  "  he  called  heartily 
as  the  Weaver  stood  in  the  doorway,  "  come  away, 
man,  and  be  having  a  bite ! " 

But  Weaver  Jimmie  shook  his  head ;  he  stood  at  the 
door  struggling  with  feet  and  whiskers,  and  appar- 
ently more  than  usually  overcome  by  embarrassment. 

"  I  would  like  to  be  speakin'  to  you,  Malcolm,"  he 
said.  There  was  a  look  in  his  face  that  brought  the 
three  men  instantly  to  the  doorway.  Scotty,  strain- 
ing his  ears  to  catch  their  low  remarks,  could  hear 
only,  "  Run-away — Lake  Simcoe."  Granny  arose, 
her  face  white. 

"  Malcolm,"  she  whispered,  "  Malcolm,  what  is  this 
about  our  son  Callum?  " 


180          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

Big  Malcolm  turned.  There  was  a  look  in  his  eyes 
that  had  not  been  there  since  the  day  the  Orangemen 
were  defeated ;  but  it  suddenly  faded  at  the  sight  of 
her  white,  pained  face. 

"  It  will  jist  be  nothing,  whatever,"  he  said  gently. 
"  They  would  be  saying  the  girl  was  off  this  morning, 
but  Jimmie  will  not  be  sure.  Come,  lads." 

The  four  men  went  away  without  another  word, 
passing  quickly  through  the  barnyard  and  up  the 
path  that  led  into  the  woods.  The  mother  arose  and 
knelt  by  the  bedside  in  the  corner  so  long  that  Scotty 
could  bear  his  burden  of  guilt  no  longer.  He  crept 
up  to  her,  and  when  she  put  her  arms  about  him  he 
sobbed  out  his  dreadful  secret ;  how  he  and  Isabel  and 
Danny  had  carried  a  letter  to  Nancy,  and  another  one 
back  to  Callum;  and  perhaps  that  was  what  made 
Callum  run  away.  And  oh,  oh,  he  didn't  know  it  was 
wicked  or  he  wouldn't  have  done  it ;  only  she  must  not 
blame  Isabel ;  it  wasn't  her  fault. 

But  Granny  blamed  no  one.  She  listened  gravely 
to  his  story,  and  to  Scotty's  supreme  relief  seemed  a 
little  comforted  by  it.  And  she  comforted  him,  too, 
patting  his  head  lovingly  and  declaring  that  he  was 
Granny's  own  boy  with  the  big  heart,  indeed,  and 
together  they  watched  and  waited  through  the  long 
dreary  day  for  the  men's  return. 


THE     END     OF     THE     FEUD     181 

But  Scotty  was  tired  out  and  gone  to  bed  long 
before  they  came.  He  was  half-awakened  in  the 
night  by  the  sound  of  voices;  strange  voices,  too; 
not  angry  or  clamorous,  but  hushed  and  solemn. 
Once  he  distinguished  Grandaddy's  voice,  broken  as 
though  with  weeping,  and  Granny's,  too,  speaking  as 
though  she  were  comforting  him,  but  with  a  sound  in 
it  that  made  the  child's  tender  heart  contract  with 
pain.  There  seemed  an  awesomeness  about  the 
strange,  soft  movements  below  that  sent  a  chill  over 
him.  None  of  the  boys  had  come  to  bed  yet;  the 
light  from  below  shone  up  through  the  cracks  in  the 
floor,  and  he  crept  to  the  hatchway  and  listened. 
And  then  he  distinguished  Praying  Donald's  low,  deep 
voice  raised  in  supplication;  then  Grandaddy  had 
been  fighting  again  and  they  had  come  to  pray  for 
him.  The  boy  crept  miserably  back  to  his  bed  and, 
childlike,  soon  fell  asleep. 

He  awoke  in  the  rosy  dawn,  when  the  shadows  of 
the  forest  still  stretched  up  to  the  doorstep,  and 
found  to  his  surprise  that  Hamish  was  sitting  by  his 
bedside.  He  remembered  with  a  chill  the  anxiety 
of  the  day  and  the  awesomeness  of  the  night  before, 
and  asked  suddenly,  "Where's  Callum?" 

But  Hamish  did  not  answer  directly ;  only  said  that 
he  must  be  good  and  quiet  and  not  ask  Granny  any 


182          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

questions,  and  added  after  a  second  question  that  Cal- 
lum  was  gone  away.  And  when  would  he  be  back? 
He  would  not  be  back,  Hamish  whispered,  with  his 
eyes  upon  the  floor.  Would  not  be  back?  Scotty 
stared  uncomprehending.  And  where  was  Nancy? 
Nancy  was  with  him.  Had  they  gone  to  the  old 
country  ?  he  asked  in  a  whisper,  but  Hamish  shook  his 
head  and  turned  away.  The  boy's  heart  seemed  held 
by  an  awful  dread.  He  wanted  to  ask  another  ques- 
tion, and  yet  he  dared  not.  But  as  the  young  man 
turned  to  go  down  the  stairs  something  in  his  white 
face  opened  a  flood  of  awful  intelligence  upon  the 
boy's  mind. 

"  Hamish,"  he  cried  in  a  sharp  whisper,  "  is — is — 
Callum— dead?  " 

But  Hamish  made  no  reply,  only  gave  him  a  glance 
as  though  he  had  been  smitten  with  a  mortal  wound, 
and  went  hurriedly  down  the  stairs. 

But  Weaver  Jimmie  told  him  all  about  it  as  soon  as 
he  descended.  For,  to  his  surprise,  Scotty  found  not 
only  Jimmie  there,  but  many  others  of  the  neighbours. 
Store  Thompson's  wife  sat  by  the  bed  in  the  corner, 
and  Granny  lay  upon  it  white  and  silent.  Something 
lay  in  another  corner,  stretched  upon  boards,  a  figure 
so  muffled  and  still  that,  without  knowing  why,  Scotty 
glanced  at  it  with  a  feeling  of  terror.  Grandaddy 


THE     END     OF     THE     FEUD     183 

was  nowhere  to  be  seen ;  but  Praying  Donald  was 
there,  reading  by  the  window.  His  deep  voice,  hushed 
to  a  solemn,  low  rumble,  filled  the  room ;  "  Then  they 
cry  unto  the  Lord  in  their  trouble,  and  He  bringeth 
them  out  of  their  distresses,"  he  was  saying,  but 
Scotty  did  not  listen ;  he  followed  Weaver  Jimmie  out 
to  the  barn  full  of  awe-stricken  questionings.  And 
Jimmie,  his  kindly  face  quivering  with  sympathy,  told 
him  all.  Yes,  that  still,  dark  form  he  had  seen  in 
the  corner  was  Callum;  they  had  brought  him  home 
last  night,  and  had  taken  Nancy  to  her  home.  But 
Hamish  had  said  Callum  was  gone,  Scotty  argued, 
and  Nancy  with  him ;  had  they  come  back  then  ?  No, 
they  had  not  come  back.  They  had  run  away  and 
tried  to  cross  Lake  Simcoe  in  a  canoe.  A  storm  had 
come  up  suddenly,  and  though  the  Caldwells  and  the 
MacDonalds,  who  had  tracked  them  to  the  shore,  tried 
to  rescue  them,  they  were  too  late.  And  Callum  was 
gone,  gone  never  to  come  back,  and  Nancy  was  with 
him;  and  if  Store  Thompson  could  get  the  great 
preacher  who  had  lately  come  to  Barbay,  they  would 
bury  them  both  in  the  Glen  to-morrow.  Scotty  did 
not  hear  any  more ;  Callum  to  be  buried,  and  Nancy, 
too,  to  be  put  away  in  the  ground  as  they  had  put 
Kirsty's  father!  He  crept  off  into  a  corner  of  the 
haymow  as  soon  as  Jimmie  had  left  him,  and  lay  there, 


184          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

his  curly  head  hidden  deep  in  the  hay,  his  small  body 
shaken  with  long  convulsive  sobs.  Callum,  his  Cal- 
lum,  Granny's  hero,  as  well  as  his  own,  gone  never  to 
come  back! 

Voices  reached  him  once,  and  lest  he  should  be  dis- 
covered, he  pressed  his  small  hands  over  his  quivering 
face  and  manfully  strove  to  hold  down  his  grief. 
Praying  Donald  and  Long  Lauchie  were  walking 
slowly  with  bent  heads  past  the  open  barn  door. 

"  It  will  be  the  will  of  the  Almighty  to  be  visiting 
us  through  this  calamity,"  Praying  Donald  was  say- 
ing, "  but  the  Father  will  never  be  leaving  His  chil- 
dren comfortless,  for  the  man  of  God  himself  will 
be  coming  to  the  funeral." 

"  McAlpine  ?  "  asked  Long  Lauchie  in  an  eager 
whisper. 

"  Aye,  John  McAlpine  himself ;  the  Lord  will  be 
very  merciful  to  us.  But,  eh,  eh,  that  the  man  that 
poor  Malcolm  would  be  praying  for  all  these  years 
should  be  coming  to  us  over  his  dead !  Eh,  it  will  be 
a  mystery,  a  mystery !  " 


IX 

RALPH     STANWELL     AGAIN 

Johnnie  Courteau  of  de  mountain, 
Johnnie  Courteau  of  de  hill; 
Dat  was  de  boy  can  shoot  de  gun, 
Dat  was  de  boy  can  jomp  an'  run, 
An'  it's  not  very  oifen  you  ketch  heem  still, 
Johnnie  Courteau! 

— WILLIAM    HENEY    DRUMMOKD. 

SCOTTY  was  setting  out  for  what  he  hoped  was 
his  last  winter  at  school.  It  was  a  perform- 
ance he  considered  quite  too  juvenile,  and  a 
single  glance  at  him  would  convince  anyone  that  it 
was  high  time  he  had  put  away  childish  things.  His 
great,  strong  frame,  over  six  feet  in  his  "  shoe- 
packs,"  his  brawny  arms  and  hands,  well  developed 
under  the  toil  of  the  axe  and  the  plough,  all  spoke  of 
his  having  reached  man's  estate.  But  his  growth  had 
somewhat  outrun  his  years,  and  he  had  not  yet  reached 
the  age  when  he  might  with  propriety  remain  away 
from  school  during  the  winter.  Besides,  he  had  held 
a  conference  with  Dan  Murphy  and  "  Hash  "  Tucker 

185 


186          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

during  the  Christmas  holidays  to  consider  the  matter 
of  further  education.  Should  they  abjure  the  whole 
trivial  business,  was  the  question  discussed,  or  should 
they  attend  school  this  winter  just  to  see  what  the 
new  master  would  be  like,  and,  if  possible,  make  things 
lively  for  him  ? 

The  latter  course,  being  the  more  uncertain,  of- 
fered the  more  entertainment  and  was  unanimously 
adopted ;  so  here  was  the  young  man,  on  this  dazzling 
January  morning,  swinging  along  the  silent  white 
forest  path,  ready  for  any  kind  of  adventure. 

For  Scotty  had  arrived  at  a  period  when  the  un- 
known and  the  forbidden  were  the  alluring,  and  the 
lawful  and  the  restraining  were  the  irksome.  Indeed 
Rory  was  wont  to  grumble  that  that  young  Scot  was 
just  going  to  ruin;  he  had  never  been  made  to  mind 
anybody  when  he  was  little,  and  now  he  was  just  grow- 
ing up  clean  wild.  For  since  Rory  had  given  up  fid- 
dling and  dancing  and  had  settled  down  with  Roarin' 
Sandy's  Maggie  in  the  north  clearing  he  had  become 
a  very  staid  householder  and  frowned  upon  all  youth- 
ful frivolity.  And  though  his  prophecies  were  per- 
haps overpessimistic,  there  was  undoubtedly  some 
cause  for  disapproval  in  the  matter  of  Scotty's  con- 
duct. Even  Big  Malcolm  and  his  wife,  who,  as  old 
age  advanced,  were  more  and  more  inclined  to  make  an 


RALPH     STANWELL     AGAIN     187 

idol  of  their  grandson,  could  not  quite  shut  their  eyes 
to  his  imperfections.  He  was  the  same  big-hearted 
Scotty  he  had  been  in  his  childhood,  lavishly  generous 
and  swift  to  respond  to  the  call  of  suffering ;  but  his 
high  spirits  were  sometimes  too  much  for  the  narrow 
confines  of  his  life,  and  he  was  wont  to  break  out  into 
wild,  mischievous  pranks. 

During  the  last  winter  of  poor  old  McAllister's 
feeble  misrule,  Scotty  and  his  two  leal  followers,  Dan 
Murphy  and  "  Hash  "  Tucker,  had  contrived  to  make 
the  hard  name  of  Number  Nine  notorious.  So  long 
as  the  three  confined  their  misdemeanours  to  the  school 
the  public  had  winked  at  them.  Disorder  and  ill- 
behaviour  always  seemed  associated  with  old  McAllis- 
ter, everyone  felt ;  and  indeed  Mr.  Cameron,  the  min- 
ister, was  suspected  by  most  of  the  section  to  have 
had  reference  to  the  old  broken-down  school-teacher 
when  he  preached  that  solemn  discourse  upon  the  blind 
leaders  of  the  blind.  As  the  sermon  was  delivered  on 
the  Sabbath  after  Scotty  and  Dan  had  knocked  over 
the  stovepipes  and  almost  burned  down  the  school- 
house,  Store  Thompson  declared  he  was  "  convinced 
of  the  certainty  of  the  application-like." 

But  when  the  boys  perpetrated  acts  of  lawlessness 
beyond  the  precincts  of  school  life  people  began  to 
look  upon  them  askance.  Scotty  had  distinguished 


188          THE     SILVER     MAPLE  \ 

himself  rather  unpleasantly  on  the  last  Hallowe'en; 
for  besides  the  usual  small  depredations  which  every- 
one expected  on  that  historic  night,  someone  had  gone 
to  the  extremity  of  elevating  Gabby  Johnny  Thomp- 
son's wagon,  heavily  loaded  with  grain,  to  the  top  of 
the  barn ;  and  everyone  in  the  Oa  knew  that  nobody 
would  have  conceived  of  such  a  daring  thing  except 
Big  Malcolm's  Scot. 

Of  course,  the  neighbours  could  not  fail  to  see  some 
poetic  justice  in  the  affair,  for  Gabby  Johnny,  who 
was  famed  for  his  astute  bargaining,  had  been  voic- 
ing a  wailing  desire  for  high  wheat  ever  since  that 
grain  had  begun  to  grow  along  the  banks  of  the  Oro. 
Nevertheless,  though  the  neighbours  might  secretly 
approve  of  such  retributive  acts  of  Providence,  the 
medium  through  which  they  descended  was  liable  to 
be  regarded  with  disfavour. 

For  while  Scotty  was  growing  up  the  social  life  of 
the  Oro  valley  had  been  undergoing  a  great  trans- 
formation. John  McAlpine,  that  great  preacher  whose 
words  always  awoke  his  hearers  to  a  terrible  realisa- 
tion of  the  solemnity  of  life  and  the  certainty  of 
death,  had  come  to  the  Glen  with  his  imperative  call 
to  higher  things.  And  at  his  coming  the  Sun  of 
Righteousness  had  arisen  over  the  Oro  hills  and  the 
whole  countryside  had  awakened  to  a  new  day. 


RALPH     STANWELL     AGAIN     189 

Other  influences  had  been  at  work,  too;  the  spirit 
of  the  pioneer  days  was  passing  with  the  forests,  the 
little  isolated  circles  of  cleared  land  had  widened  out 
and  merged  into  each  other  like  the  rings  on  the  sur- 
face of  the  Oro  pools,  and  with  the  broader  outlook 
came  gentler  manners  and  more  tolerant  views.  Then 
this  young  land  was  slowly  but  surely  absorbing  into 
her  own  personality  all  the  discordant  elements  and 
making  of  them  a  great  nation;  for  within  the  last 
few  years  a  new  race  had  sprung  up  in  the  Oro  valley, 
a  race  that  was  neither  English,  Irish,  nor  Scotch, 
Highland  nor  Lowland,  but  a  strange  mixture  of  all, 
known  as  Canadian.  The  community  in  the  Glen  had 
grown  to  quite  a  respectable  village,  the  post  office 
adding  a  touch  of  dignity  and  necessitating  the  new 
name,  the  name  of  Glenoro.  And  best  of  all,  there 
was  the  church  just  at  the  bend  in  the  river,  with  the 
manse  beside  it  where  the  minister  lived;  and  such 
had  been  its  influence  that  a  fight  at  the  corner  now 
would  have  brought  a  shock  to  the  whole  township. 

So  Scotty  and  his  followers  did  not  properly  belong 
to  these  improved  times ;  they  were  mediaeval.  The 
boy  had  been  too  young  when  Mr.  McAlpine  came  to 
be  deeply  affected  by  his  great  sermons ;  but  he  had 
not  outlived  the  stirring  memory  of  the  old  fighting 
days  when  Callum  kept  the  Oa  lively.  Callum  was 


190         THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

still  his  hero,  the  dear  old  handsome  Callum,  of  whom 
he  could  never  think  even  yet  without  a  pang  of  re- 
gret. Hamish  and  Rory  had  grown  beyond  him  with 
the  years,  but  Callum  was  always  young  and  bright 
and  dashing;  and  Scotty  was  determined  to  be  like 
him  and  to  do  the  great  deeds  Callum  would  certainly 
have  done  had  it  not  been  for  his  untimely  end. 

The  bell  was  ringing  when  the  three  conspirators 
met  at  the  school  pump.  Number  Nine  had  a  bell 
now,  and  there  was  even  some  agitation  for  a  new 
building.  Poor  old  McAllister's  wasted  life  had  gone 
out  the  autumn  before  like  the  quenching  of  a  smoul- 
dering fire,  and  now  that  a  new  man  was  to  take  his 
place  the  section  was  beginning  to  pick  up  courage 
and  look  for  a  hopeful  future. 

The  young  men  lounged  in  at  the  end  of  the  pro- 
cession and  flopped  into  their  seats  with  the  proper 
air  of  insupportable  boredom.  Scotty's  first  task  was 
to  take  the  measure  of  his  new  instructor.  At  the 
first  glance  he  was  conscious  of  a  distinct  sensation 
of  disappointment.  He  had  expected  the  stranger 
to  be  young  and  callow,  but  this  man  had  grey  hair 
and  was  apparently  nearing  middle  age.  His  face, 
which  was  pale  and  showed  signs  of  ill-health,  was 
clearly  cut  and  refined.  His  frame  was  well-built  and 
wiry,  and  he  had  a  pair  of  steady  grey  eyes  and  a 


RALPH     STANWELL     AGAIN     191 

quiet,  dignified  manner  which  seemed  strangely  in- 
congruous in  the  position  old  McAllister  had  so  long 
made  ridiculous. 

Nevertheless  Scotty  regarded  him  with  strong  dis- 
favour. His  white  collar,  his  smooth  hair  and  his 
English  way  of  sharply  clipping  off  his  words 
stamped  him  as  hopelessly  "  stuck-up  " ;  and  Dan 
Murphy  reported  with  derisive  joy  that  he  had  worn 
gloves  to  school,  a  weakness  of  which  no  one  who 
called  himself  a  man  would  be  guilty.  Besides  all 
this,  he  had  obtained  his  position  through  Captain 
Herbert ;  indeed,  he  had  been  a  close  friend  of  the 
Captain  when  they  lived  in  Toronto,  it  was  rumoured, 
and  he  probably  belonged  to  the  aristocracy,  who  were 
hated  of  Scotty's  soul.  On  the  other  hand,  he  wasn't 
an  Englishman,  for  his  name  was  Archibald  Monteith, 
that  was  one  thing  in  his  favour;  but  he  stood  for 
order  and  good  behaviour,  and  the  young  man  was 
arrayed  against  all  such. 

The  new  master  himself  was  quietly  taking  note 
of  his  surroundings.  He  had  been  thoroughly  in- 
formed of  the  bad  character  of  Number  Nine,  both  by 
Captain  Herbert  and  the  trustees,  not  to  speak  of  the 
unsolicited  advice  and  information  that  had  been 
pouring  in  upon  him  ever  since  his  arrival.  Upon 
the  first  night  of  his  stay  at  Store  Thompson's,  a 


192          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

burly  man  with  a  great  bushy  head  and  beard  had 
come  suddenly  upon  him;  and  after  a  warm  hand- 
shake and  welcome  had  given  him  absolute  power  in 
the  matter  of  dealing  with  his  family. 

"  You  lay  it  onto  my  Danny,"  was  the  generous 
admonition.  "  Sure,  the  young  spalpeen's  mad  wid 
the  foolish  goin's  on,  an'  it's  a  latherin'  he  needs  ivery 
day.  You  mind  an'  lay  it  onto  Danny !  " 

Quite  as  cordial  but  more  ominous  had  been  the  ad- 
vice proffered  by  Gabby  Johnny  Thompson.  In  his 
capacity  of  Secretary-Treasurer  of  the  School  Board 
that  gentleman  felt  it  incumbent  upon  him  to  inform 
the  novice  of  the  unsounded  depths  of  iniquity  he  had 
to  deal  with  in  Number  Nine.  His  darkest  hints  re- 
lated to  "  yon  ill  piece  o'  Big  Malcolm  MacDonald's." 
A  scandalous  young  deil  he  was,  and  Mr.  Monteith 
would  have  to  keep  an  eye  on  him,  for  him  and  yon 
young  Papish  of  a  Murphy  were  a  bad  pair.  It  was 
young  Scot  Malcolm  who  had  nearly  burned  the 
school  down,  over  McAllister's  head;  yes,  and  would 
have  burned  up  old  McAllister,  too,  without  a 
thought,  he  was  that  thrawn  and  ill. 

Monteith  was  regarding  with  deep  interest  the 
owner  of  this  evil  reputation.  He  was  a  rare  reader 
of  character,  and  understood  at  once  the  nature  of 
Scotty's  malady.  His  man's  frame  and  boy's  face, 


RALPH     STANWELL     AGAIN     193 

his  keen,  bright,  inquiring  eyes,  and  the  signs  of 
abounding  life,  all  fully  explained  the  cause  of  the 
trouble.  The  schoolmaster  found  something  irresist- 
ibly attractive  about  the  boy  too ;  there  were  signs  of 
intellect  in  every  line  of  his  face,  and  he  dearly  loved 
brains. 

As  the  school  passed  out  for  their  morning  inter- 
mission he  beckoned  the  youth  to  him.  Dan  Murphy 
made  a  covert  grimace  expressive  of  his  whole  being's 
revolt  against  any  such  degrading  task,  and  Scotty 
went  forward  reluctantly.  He  wanted  to  disobey, 
but  the  man's  courtesy  held  him. 

An  old  school  register  in  which  were  written  some 
seventy  names  lay  open  on  the  desk. 

"  I  am  hopelessly  entangled  in  all  these  Mac- 
Donalds,"  said  the  new  master,  in  a  tone  one  man 
would  use  in  addressing  another.  "  Here  are  four 
Betseys  and  six  Johnnies,  and  Donalds  without  num- 
ber. Would  you  be  so  good  as  to  assist  me  ?  " 

Scotty's  inbred  Highland  courtesy  and  the  gener- 
ous desire  to  help  which  was  part  of  his  nature,  im- 
pelled him  to  answer  politely.  Striving  to  ignore  the 
violent  pantomime  being  enacted  by  Dan  in  the  porch, 
he  gave  the  man  the  key  to  the  situation.  His  big 
finger  ran  awkwardly  down  the  page  as  he  gave  the 
name  by  which  each  pupil  was  known.  The  stranger 


194         THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

listened  in  some  amusement  and  not  a  little  bewilder- 
ment to  the  list:  Roarin'  Sandy's  Donald,  Crooked 
Duncan's  Donald,  Peter  Archie  Red's  Donald.  They 
were  rather  unwieldy,  but  he  planted  them  down 
heroically,  and  then  proceeded  to  disentangle  the 
Murphys  and  the  Tuckers  after  the  same  fashion. 

"  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you,"  he  said  with 
the  same  quiet  seriousness  when  the  work  was  finished, 
and  Scotty  took  his  seat  wondering  if  the  new  master 
ever  smiled.  Most  likely  that  grave,  unbending  man- 
ner was  just  the  natural  outcome  of  his  inevitably 
stuck-up  nature,  he  reflected. 

Affairs  went  harmoniously  enough  until  school  was 
dismissed  for  the  noon  recess.  As  soon  as  the  word 
was  given  dinner-pails  were  seized,  bread-and-butter, 
meat,  pie,  and  cake  began  to  appear  and  disappear 
again  with  equal  rapidity;  a  crowd  of  the  bigger 
girls  made  preparations  for  brewing  tea  on  the  stove ; 
and  before  the  new  master  could  get  on  his  overcoat 
and  gloves  preparatory  to  leaving,  dinner  was  well 
under  way,  and  the  room  was  filled  with  a  strong 
aroma  of  tea  and  pork. 

Scotty  had  gone  to  the  door  to  administer  a  fare- 
well snowball  to  the  unclassified  aliens  who  went  home 
to  the  village  for  dinner.  A  prompt  answer  came 
hurtling  back,  and  as  he  dodged  into  the  porch  with 


RALPH     STANWELL     AGAIN     195 

a  derisive  yell  of  laughter,  he  barely  escaped  knock- 
ing over  the  new  master.  He  hastily  stepped  aside 
to  let  him  pass,  but  the  man  paused. 

"  I  forgot  to  ask  you  your  own  name,  among  all 
the  others,"  he  said,  more  for  the  sake  of  engaging 
the  youth  in  conversation  than  to  gain  information. 
"  You  are  a  MacDonald,  too,  I  believe?  " 

Scotty  had  long  passed  the  time  when  he  felt  his 
English  name  a  disgrace.  Of  course  he  would  have 
preferred  one  of  another  sort,  but  he  scarcely 
thought  of  it  now,  and  most  of  his  schoolmates  had 
forgotten  that  he  possessed  one.  And,  in  the  face  of 
this  grave  man's  courtesy,  he  felt  it  would  be  childish 
to  pretend,  so  he  answered,  not  without  some  dignity, 
"  No,  my  name  will  not  be  MacDonald,  it  will  be  Stan- 
well,  Ralph  Stanwell." 

The  new  master's  grey  eyes  grew  suddenly  narrow ; 
he  was  well  acquainted  with  all  the  small  tricks  to  be 
played  upon  a  newcomer,  and  had  many  a  time  seen 
this  one  of  a  fictitious  name  successfully  practiced. 
He  had  been  prepared  to  find  this  boy  hard  to  man- 
age, but  he  was  disgusted  that  he  should  descend  to 
such  a  small,  childish  prank.  He  knew  Scotty's 
name  only  too  well,  and,  in  any  case,  for  a  youth  with 
a  marked  Highland  accent,  dressed  in  the  grey  home- 
spun which  seemed  the  uniform  of  the  clan  MacDon- 


196         THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

aid,  to  stand  before  him  and  give  himself  such  a  name 
as  this  was  as  stupid  as  it  was  insulting. 

"  That  is  a  very  clumsy  lie,"  he  remarked  quietly. 

Scotty  dropped  his  snowball  and  stared;  for  a 
moment  he  did  not  quite  comprehend. 

"  What  ?  "  he  cried  artlessly.  His  look  of  innocent 
amazement  doubled  his  listener's  indignation. 

"  I  said,"  returned  the  man  very  distinctly,  "  that 
you  have  told  me  a  lie,  and  a  very  stupid  one,  for  I 
know  your  name  to  be  Scot  MacDonald,  and  a  rather 
notorious  one  you  have  made  it,  too." 

And  turning  his  back  in  disgust,  the  new  master 
walked  quietly  down  the  snowy  road.  For  an  instant 
Scotty  stood  glaring  after  him,  every  drop  of  his 
rebellious  blood  tingling.  He  snatched  up  his  snow- 
ball again  and  took  aim.  If  he  could  only  smash 
that  conceited  looking  hat,  or  better  still,  the  insuf- 
ferable white  collar !  But  there  was  something  in  the 
commanding  air  of  the  figure  that  went  so  steadily 
onward,  not  deigning  to  look  back,  that  held  the  boy's 
arm. 

Instead,  he  sent  the  missile  crashing  into  the  last 
remaining  pane  in  the  porch  window,  and  went  leap- 
ing into  the  school,  determined  to  find  Dan  and  relieve 
his  feelings  by  working  some  irreparable  damage. 

The  schoolhouse  was  in  a  condition  to  invite  depre- 


RALPH     STANWELL     AGAIN     197 

dations.  Late  in  the  previous  autumn,  as  soon  as 
the  news  of  the  new  master's  expected  advent  had 
come,  the  matrons  of  Number  Nine  had  organised  a 
housecleaning  campaign  in  the  school.  Store  Thomp- 
son's wife,  that  queen  of  housekeepers,  headed  the 
expedition  against  dirt,  and  even  the  minister's  wife 
took  part.  The  former  lady  had  long  declared  that 
the  condition  of  the  schoolhouse  was  clean  ridic'l'us, 
and  now  demanded  that  something  be  done  to  better 
it,  for  as  the  new  master  was  coming  from  the  Cap- 
tain's he  was  sure  to  be  a  gentleman,  and  most  like 
would  be  terrible  tidy. 

So  the  army  of  housekeepers  had  charged  down 
upon  the  schoolhouse,  and  such  a  washing  and  cleans- 
ing and  renovating  as  took  place  had  certainly  never 
been  paralleled  except  when  the  spring  winds  and 
waters  came  swirling  down  the  Oro  hills.  The  poor 
little  building  was  scarcely  recognisable  when  it 
emerged  from  its  baptism  of  soapy  water  and  white- 
wash. The  big  girls  added  an  artistic  touch  by 
decorating  the  spotless  walls  with  cedar  boughs,  until 
the  place  smelled  as  sweet  as  the  swamps  of  the  Oro ; 
and  to  crown  all,  the  minister  presented  it  with  a  fine 
picture  of  Queen  Victoria  to  be  hung  above  the 
master's  desk. 

And  this  was  the  immaculate  condition  of  the  place 


198         THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

where,  when  his  dinner  was  finished,  Scotty's  roving 
eye  sought  something  upon  which  to  work  off  his 
burning  indignation. 

It  had  always  been  the  custom  heretofore  in  Num- 
ber Nine  to  employ  the  noon  recess  tearing  round  the 
room  in  a  cloud  of  dust,  yelling,  throwing  ink  and 
breaking  furniture.  But  to-day  the  awe  of  the  new 
master  had  had  a  restraining  influence,  and  most  of 
the  wilder  spirits  had  betaken  themselves  to  an  out- 
door campaign.  So  there  were  only  a  few  of  the 
smaller  pupils  and  the  larger  girls  grouped  round  the 
stove  when  Scotty  started  his  new  enterprise.  The 
cedar  wreath  above  the  door  was  quite  dry  and  rather 
dusty  and  offered  a  fine  field  for  a  unique  exploit. 
Lighting  a  splinter  at  the  stove,  he  set  fire  to  the 
garland,  allowed  the  flames  to  mount  up,  and  just  as 
they  threatened  to  get  beyond  his  control,  beat  them 
out  with  his  cap.  The  girls  shrieked  in  horror ;  Betty 
Lauchie  screamed  that  he  was  a  wretch,  and  the  min- 
ister himself  would  be  after  him,  and  Biddy  Murphy 
vowed  she'd  pull  every  hair  of  his  worthless  head  out 
for  him  if  he  tried  it  again.  But  Scotty  was  joy- 
ously reckless  and  quite  beyond  fear  of  even  Miss 
Murphy. 

When  Dan  returned  from  the  slaughter  of  the 
Philistines,  who  lived  over  on  the  Tenth,  he  found 


RALPH     STANWELL     AGAIN     199 

his  chum  the  centre  of  a  wildly  excited  group,  and 
engaged  in  beating  out  his  third  conflagration.  Dan 
was  immediately  fired  to  emulation.  He  would  be 
disgraced  forever  in  the  eyes  of  the  Flats  if  he  al- 
lowed Scotty  to  get  ahead  of  him,  and  already  the 
room  was  filling  with  admiring  MacDonalds  and  en- 
vious Murphys.  So,  in  spite  of  the  imploring  shrieks 
and  commands  of  the  girls,  he  struck  a  match  and 
soon  had  the  festoons  along  the  wall  crackling  mer- 
rily. When  this  rival  blaze  was  extinguished  Hash 
Tucker  stepped  into  public  notice.  Considering  his 
blood  and  breeding,  this  son  of  the  house  of  Tucker 
should  have  been  a  phlegmatic  Saxon.  But  no  one 
can  say  what  Canadian  air  will  do  with  the  blood ;  and 
under  its  influence  Hash  had  long  ago  commenced  a 
reversion  to  type,  the  aboriginal  wild  Indian.  What- 
ever Scotty  or  Dan  did  therefore,  that  he  could  outdo. 
Seizing  a  burning  brand  from  the  stove,  he  scrambled 
up  on  the  teacher's  rickety  old  desk,  and  the  next 
moment  the  triumphal  arch,  reared  in  honour  of  the 
new  master's  coming,  was  in  a  blaze.  But  just  as 
he  reached  up  to  beat  out  the  flames  he  was  gripped 
violently  round  the  knees,  and  down  he  came  to  the 
floor,  Scotty  on  the  top  of  him.  Hash  roared  lustily 
for  his  followers ;  the  Tenth  responded  gallantly, 
Scotty  was  engulfed  in  their  on-rush,  and,  to  help  on 


200          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

the  good  work,  Dan  Murphy  headed  a  rescue  party 
from  the  Oa  to  extricate  his  friend  from  the  yelling 
heap. 

What  the  outcome  of  this  affray  might  have  been 
is  doubtful,  but  just  at  its  inception  a  terrified  cry  of 
"  fire,"  from  the  remainder  of  the  school  parted  the 
combatants.  They  came  to  their  feet  to  find  the 
flames  leaping  up  the  walls,  and  clouds  of  smoke 
rolling  through  the  room. 

It  was  no  j  oke  this  time  and  the  boys  wasted  not  an 
instant.  Scotty  leaped  from  the  floor  to  head  an 
impromptu  fire  brigade,  and  for  a  few  moments  they 
worked  desperately.  They  dragged  down  the  burning 
branches  and  flung  them  out  of  doors ;  they  flew  to  and 
from  the  pump,  they  flung  snow  and  water  among  the 
flames,  and  after  a  short  but  desperate  struggle  the 
fire  was  conquered. 

It  was  all  over  in  a  few  moments,  and  the  victors 
stood,  begrimed  and  breathless,  and  rather  ruefully 
surveyed  the  havoc  they  had  unwittingly  wrought. 
The  lately  spotless  walls  were  scorched  and  black- 
ened, the  decorations  depended  from  the  fastenings, 
charred  and  ugly,  and  the  floor  was  swimming  in  inky 
water. 

"  Horo ! "  cried  Scotty,  with  a  long,  dismayed 
whistle. 


RALPH     STANWELL     AGAIN     201 

"  It'll  be  bad  for  the  gent's  white  collar  if  he  comes 
in  here,"  said  Dan  solemnly.  "  Murderin'  blazes, 
who's  that?  " 

Now,  it  happened  that  by  an  evil  chance  Gabby 
Johnny,  the  Secretary-Treasurer,  had  been  driving 
past  the  school  on  his  way  to  the  woods,  and  seeing 
smoke  issuing  from  the  windows  of  the  building  over 
which  he  considered  himself  the  especial  guardian,  he 
stopped  his  team  and  rushed  upon  the  scene,  and  there 
he  stood  now,  in  the  silent  crowd  of  frightened  girls 
and  sobered  boys,  gazing  at  the  devastation  with  such 
an  expression  of  aghast  horror,  that  at  the  sight 
of  him  all  Scotty's  compunction  vanished  and  he 
laughed  aloud. 

Gabby  Johnny  peered  through  the  smoke  and  dis- 
cerned his  enemy,  evidently  rejoicing  over  his  evil 
work. 

"  Ah,  ye  ill  piece !  "  he  shouted,  stepping  up  to  the 
boy  and  shaking  his  fist  in  his  face,  "  Ah  kenned  it 
was  you!  Aye,  Ah  kenned!  If  there's  ony  scan- 
dal'us  goin's  on  ye'll  be  in  it !  It's  an  evil  end  ye're 
comin'  til,  wi'  yer  goin's  on ;  aye,  that's  what  ye  are ! 
Ye  neither  fear  God,  nor  regard  man!  Sik  a  like 
onceevilised " 

Now  Gabby  Johnny  was  prepared  upon  all  occa- 
sions to  prove  his  right  to  his  sobriquet,  and  Dan 


202          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

Murphy  well  knew  he  would  not  stop  until  he  had 
driven  Scotty  to  extreme  measures,  so  here  he  merci- 
fully interfered  in  his  friend's  behalf.  He  had  no 
mind  to  defy  a  trustee,  so,  being  of  a  diplomatic 
turn,  determined  to  divert  the  tide  of  wrath  by  the 
simple  expedient  of  producing  a  counter-irritant. 
He  slipped  out  quietly  from  the  line  of  culprits,  and 
snatching  up  a  well-packed  snowball  hurled  it  straight 
and  true  at  the  team  standing  in  the  road.  The 
missile  was  a  hard  one,  and  the  nervous  young  colts, 
their  heads  erect,  their  nostrils  indignant,  went  jing- 
ling off  down  the  road,  their  heels  sending  a  fine  snow- 
storm over  the  old  bobsleigh,  leaping  in  their  wake. 

Gabby  Johnny  heard  his  bells  and  his  eloquence 
suddenly  ceased.  At  the  same  instant  Dan  burst  in 
upon  him,  his  eyes  starting  from  his  head,  his  breath 
coming  in  gasps. 

"  Sure,  your  team's  runnin'  away ! "  he  bawled. 
"  They're  runnin'  away !  I  can't  stop  them ;  they're 
gone  clane  wild !  " 

Gabby  Johnny  waited  neither  to  hear  nor  deliver 
more.  He  darted  out  and  down  the  road,  followed 
by  a  hailstorm  of  snowballs  and  the  joyful  cheers  of 
Number  Nine.  And  as  he  went  he  howled  breathless 
anathemas,  alternately  at  his  wayward  horses  and 
back  at  the  yelling  mob  behind  him,  both  couched  in 


RALPH     STANWELL     AGAIN     203 

language  little  calculated  to  raise  the  moral  status 
of  the  already  besmirched  school. 

But  the  boys'  trouble  was  not  over;  they  returned 
from  the  rout  of  the  trustee  only  to  find  the  new  mas- 
ter entering  the  scene  of  destruction.  He  stood  and 
looked  about  him  with  a  manner  just  as  quiet,  but  no 
graver,  than  usual. 

"  How  did  the  fire  start  ?  "  he  asked  calmly. 

The  dauntless  three  stepped  forward,  headed  by 
Scotty.  In  the  old  days  confession  to  McAllister  did 
not  appear  in  the  code  of  schoolboy  honour ;  but  there 
was  something  about  this  man,  even  though  Scotty 
cordially  hated  him,  which  demanded  fair  dealing. 
The  new  master  looked  them  over  in  a  manner  that 
was  hardly  complimentary.  His  eyebrows  rose. 

"  Children ! "  was  all  he  said,  but  the  word  made 
Scotty  writhe.  Then  he  did  not  scold  or  rave  as  the 
boys  half -wished  he  would.  He  quietly  dismissed  all 
but  the  three  culprits,  and  saying  he  would  give  them 
that  afternoon  and  the  next  day  to  bring  the  school 
back  to  the  condition  in  which  they  had  found  it,  and 
that  done,  he  would  prefer  that  they  remain  at  home 
under  their  parents'  control  for  a  month  or  so,  he 
turned  on  his  heel  and  walked  away  with  an  air  that 
said  plainly  that  this  was  no  affair  of  his  and  was 
regarded  by  him  with  calm  indifference. 


204          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

The  boys  were  completely  taken  aback.  Hitherto 
school  discipline  had  consisted  exclusively  of  thrash- 
ings, which  though  uncomfortable  had  some  honour 
attached.  But  here  was  a  new  departure ;  to  have  to 
undo  all  one's  mischief,  and  then  be  contemptuously 
dismissed  was  a  serious  affair.  The  new  master  acted 
as  though  he  were  the  King  of  England  too,  and  cer- 
tainly, with  Gabby  Johnny  at  his  back,  he  was  not  to 
be  trifled  with. 

When  the  three  arrived  the  next  morning,  armed 
with  whitewash  and  brushes,  Dan  and  Hash  were 
rather  inclined  to  feel  subdued,  but  not  so  Scotty.  In 
his  home  discipline  was  not  so  rigid  as  in  that  of  the 
other  two,  and  his  grandparents  had  not  even  heard 
of  his  escapade.  And  his  heart  was  still  raging  hot 
against  the  new  master.  The  man  had  dared  to  tell 
him  he  lied !  The  remembrance  of  it  and  Monteith's 
air  of  calm  superiority  maddened  him.  How  he 
longed  to  knock  him  down  and  hear  him  take  back  his 
statement.  Well,  he  could  not  do  that,  it  seemed,  but 
he  would  wreak  his  vengeance  in  some  other  way. 

So  with  Scotty  in  this  mood  the  work  of  reparation 
did  not  go  on  very  steadily.  His  two  companions 
tried  to  attend  to  business,  but  soon  found  it  impossi- 
ble. They  were  alone  in  the  forest  with  unlimited 
whitewash ;  and  with  Scotty  inciting  them  to  deeds  of 


RALPH     STANWELL     AGAIN     205 

daring,  how  could  they  resist?  They  started  by  en- 
during their  leader's  pranks,  and  ended  by  embracing 
them,  and  when  their  morning's  task  was  completed 
not  even  McAllister's  ghost,  could  it  have  appeared, 
would  have  recognised  its  old  haunts. 

Yet  no  one  could  say  the  boys  had  not  done  their 
work,  for  they  had  whitewashed  the  school  with  a 
thoroughness  even  Store  Thompson's  wife  would  never 
have  attempted.  The  only  fault  was  the  lack  of  dis- 
crimination shown  by  the  decorators.  Some  critics 
might  have  considered  the  coating  of  the  floor  and  the 
desks  a  work  of  supererogation.  But  the  boys  were 
not  stingy ;  they  whitewashed  everything  with  an  im- 
partial and  lavish  generosity;  the  walls,  the  ceiling, 
the  blackboard,  the  furniture.  Yes,  even  the  stove  and 
stovepipes  were  rubbed  until  they  fairly  radiated 
whiteness,  and  stood  out  spectrally  in  their  pallid  sur- 
roundings, like  the  ghost  of  some  departed  heater. 
Scotty  gave  the  new  master's  desk  an  extra  coat,  and 
even  polished  up  a  stray  book  and  dinner  pail,  unluck- 
ily left  behind  the  day  before,  just  to  have  them  in 
harmony  with  their  environment. 

When  at  last  the  work  was  finished  and  the  three 
bespattered  workmen  prepared  to  depart,  Dan  de- 
clared in  an  oratorical  address  delivered  from  the  top 
of  the  master's  snowy  desk,  that  they  had  nobly  done 


206         THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

their  duty,  for  had  they  not  carried  out  the  new  mas- 
ter's instructions  and  whitewashed  the  school? 

And  when  they  turned  the  white  key  in  the  white 
door  and  stole  off  in  three  directions  through  the 
forest,  bursting  with  mirth,  they  vowed  they  had  not 
experienced  such  a  season  of  pure  joy  since  the  night 
Gabby  Johnny's  waggon  had  arisen,  like  Charles's 
Wain,  in  the  heavens! 


IN     THE     REALMS     OF     GOLD 

Not  to  be  conquered  .by  these  headlong  days, 
But  to  stand  free:    to  keep  the  mind  at  brood 
On  life's   deep   meaning,  nature's  altitude 
Of  loveliness,  and  time's  mysterious  ways; 
At  every  thought  and  deed  to  clear  the  haze 
Out  of  our  eyes,  considering  only  this, 
What  man,  what  life,  what  love,  what  beauty  is, 
This  is  to  live  and  win  the  final  praise. 

— ARCHIBALD  L/AMPMAN. 

UPON  his  return  home,  Scotty  went  out  be- 
hind the  house  to  work  off  some  of  his 
superfluous  mirth  upon  the  woodpile.  He 
had  flung  aside  his  coat  and  was  swinging  his  axe 
vigorously,  when,  with  the  quickness  of  the  rural  eye 
which  always  spies  an  approaching  figure,  he  noticed 
a  man  turn  in  from  the  highway  and  walk  briskly  up 
the  snowy  lane.  The  boy  gave  a  low  whistle ;  his  face 
grew  dark  with  anger.  It  was  the  new  master !  He 
had  found  out  the  condition  of  the  school  then,  and 
had  come  to  report  to  his  grandparents.  McAllister 
at  his  worst  was  better  than  this  fellow,  for  McAllister 
was  no  sneak.  But  even  in  his  anger,  he  chuckled 

207 


208          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

mischievously  when  he  considered  what  an  exhibition 
Monteith  would  surely  make  of  himself  if  he  at- 
tempted to  lodge  complaints  with  Big  Malcolm 
against  his  grandson. 

But  instead  of  turning  up  the  path  to  the  door, 
the  new  master  followed  the  track  that  led  round  the 
house  under  the  Silver  Maple. 

At  first  Scotty  was  of  a  mind  to  dodge  round  the 
woodpile  and  escape ;  but  he  was  too  late ;  Monteith 
had  already  caught  sight  of  him ;  so  he  waited,  sullen 
and  defiant. 

The  new  master  lost  no  time  in  making  his  errand 
known. 

"  I  came  to  offer  an  apology,  Ralph  Stanwell,"  he 
said  gravely,  "  for  what  I  said  concerning  your 
name.  I  found  out  my  mistake  only  this  afternoon." 

Scotty's  defiant  air  changed  to  one  of  amazement ; 
his  eyes  fell,  he  felt  suddenly  ashamed. 

"  I  hope  you  will  accept  an  explanation,  though  it 
does  not  at  all  atone  for  what  I  said,"  continued  the 
schoolmaster  earnestly.  "  I  am  truly  ashamed  of 
myself  for  making  such  a  stupid  blunder." 

Scotty  squirmed  in  embarrassment.  He  had  never 
in  his  life  witnessed  any  such  dignified  reparation  of 
a  wrong,  and  in  contrast,  his  own  late  conduct  Iooke4 
childish  and  almost  barbarous, 


IN     THE     REALMS     OF     GOLD    209 

"  Oh,  it  will  not  matter,  whatever,"  he  stammered 
abruptly,  and  in  a  manner  much  more  ungracious 
than  his  feelings  warranted. 

"  But  it  does  matter  very  much.  It  was  no  way 
for  one  man  to  speak  to  another." 

Scotty  experienced  a  glow  of  mingled  pride  and 
shame;  the  new  master  considered  him  a  man  then, 
and  he  had  not  played  the  man's  part !  "  But,  you 
see,"  continued  Monteith,  "  I  felt  so  sure.  It  was 
your  Highland  accent,  and  your — your  general  Mac- 
Donald  appearance  that  to  my  ignorance  made  your 
statement  unbelievable." 

The  schoolmaster  had  unwittingly  struck  the  right 
chord. 

Scotty  smiled  shyly  but  amicably.  "  Oh,  it  will 
be  jist  nothing,"  he  said  generously. 

"  Won't  you  shake  hands,  then,  and  let  me  feel  I 
am  quite  forgiven?  " 

But  Scotty  did  not  put  out  his  hand;  he  stood 
shifting  from  one  foot  to  the  other,  looking  down  at 
the  heap  of  chips. 

"  But — I — would  you  not  be  knowing?  "  he 
faltered. 

"  Knowing  what?  " 

"  That  we — that  I  would  be  making  the  school- 
house  worse  than  ever?  " 


210         THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

There  was  a  sudden  light  in  Monteith's  eyes  that 
would  have  surely  convinced  Scotty,  had  he  seen  it, 
of  the  new  master's  ability  to  smile. 

"  Well,  perhaps  that  will  help  to  even  things  up  a 
little,"  he  said  brightly.  "  Come,  are  you  willing  to 
call  it  quits  ?  " 

Scotty  put  out  his  big  hand  swiftly,  and  felt  it 
caught  in  a  strong  bony  grip.  And  as  their  hands 
met  Monteith's  stern  face  suddenly  broke  out  into  an 
unexpected  smile,  a  smile  so  brilliant  and  kindly  that 
the  boy  felt  it  illuminate  his  whole  being,  and  from 
that  moment  he  was  the  new  master's  friend. 

"  And  now,"  said  the  man,  suddenly  becoming 
grave  again,  "  will  you  tell  me  how  you  come  to  have 
two  names?  How  does  a  Highland  Scot  like  you 
happen  to  have  such  a  name  as  Stanwell  ?  " 

Scotty  gasped ;  was  he  going  to  ignore  the  white- 
washing altogether? 

"  It  would  be  my  father's,"  he  answered  simply, 
"  but  I  would  always  be  living  here  with  my  grand- 
father, and  I  was  always  called  MacDonald." 

"  Ralph  Stanwell,  Ralph  Stanwell,"  repeated  the 
schoolmaster  ruminatingly,  "  I've  heard  that  name 
before.  Why,  yes ;  I  wonder  if  you  are  any  relation 
to  the  Captain  Ralph  Stanwell  I  once  met  in  Toronto. 
The  name  is  not  common." 


IN     THE     REALMS     OF     GOLD 

"  My  father  died  there,  and  my  mother,  too,"  was 
the  answer. 

The  new  master  stared.  "  Surely,  surely,"  he  was 
saying,  half  to  himself,  "  it  couldn't  be  possible ; 
but  his  wife's  name  was  MacDonald  too!  And  Her- 
bert always  said  the  child  died ! " 

Under  the  man's  steady  gaze  Scotty  fidgeted  with 
his  axe  in  combined  amazement  and  embarrassment. 

"  Was  your  father's  second  name  Everett?  " 

"  Yes,  and  that  will  be  mine,  too." 

The  new  master  stared  harder. 

"  Well,  well,  well,"  he  muttered,  "  I  wonder  if  he 
knows ! " 

The  boy  stood  lost  in  a  wild  speculation.  By  some 
queer  trick  of  memory  he  was  back  once  more  in 
Store  Thompson's  shop,  a  little  curly-headed  fellow, 
and  felt  a  man's  kind,  playful  hand  upon  his  curls ; 
and  at  the  sound  of  his  name  saw  a  smiling  face  grow 
suddenly  grave  with  amazement,  fear  and  defiance 
chasing  one  another  across  it.  How  was  it  that,  all 
through  his  life,  his  English  name  seemed  always  to 
produce  consternation? 

Monteith  shook  himself  as  though  awakening  from 
a  dream. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said  hastily,  "  your 
name  called  up  some  old  memories.  And  now,  I 


THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

must  be  going."  He  held  out  his  hand  again. 
"  Good-bye,  and  I  thank  you  for  your  generosity." 

"  But — but  you  will  not  be  leaving  without  your 
supper !  "  cried  Scotty  aghast. 

"  Thank  you,  but  your  grandparents  are  not  ex- 
pecting me,  and " 

Scotty  stared.  "  But  what  difference  would  that 
be  making?  "  he  asked  artlessly.  "  It  will  be  all  the 
better."  The  new  master  smiled  again  at  the  uncon- 
scious hospitality  of  the  remark,  and  this  time  ac- 
cepted the  invitation.  Scotty  instantly  flung  aside 
his  axe,  and  led  the  way  around  to  the  door. 

Monteith  had  already  learned  to  expect  a  warm 
greeting  from  the  inhabitants  of  the  Oro  Highlands, 
but  he  had  yet  to  experience  a  true  Scottish-Canadian 
welcome,  and  was  almost  overwhelmed  by  the  one  he 
received  in  the  old  house  under  the  Silver  Maple. 

Big  Malcolm  met  him  at  the  door  and  made  him 
welcome  in  a  manner  that  somehow  made  the  guest 
feel  that  the  old  man  owned  the  whole  township  of 
Oro  and  was  laying  it  at  his  feet.  Mrs.  MacDonald 
drew  him  up  to  the  fire,  bewailing  the  long  cold  walk 
he  had  had,  and  pulling  off  his  overcoat,  calling  all 
the  while  for  Scotty  to  run  and  put  more  wood  in 
the  stove  that  she  might  make  a  fresh  cup  of  tea. 
Hamish  came  hurrying  up  from  the  barn  to  shake  the 


IN     THE     REALMS     OF     GOLD    213 

guest's  hand  and  make  him  welcome  yet  again,  and 
even  Sport,  Bruce's  successor,  leaped  round  him, 
barking  joyously,  as  though  he  understood  that  the 
arrival  of  a  visitor  was  the  best  possible  thing  that 
could  happen. 

Then,  there  was  Old  Farquhar,  still  cackling 
incoherent  Gaelic  from  the  chimney  corner.  Before 
the  visitor  had  got  the  snow  swept  from  his  feet  the 
old  man  inquired  if  he  had  read  Ossian's  poems,  and 
rinding  him  in  the  depths  of  ignorance  regarding  that 
great  bard,  turned  his  back  upon  him  in  disgust,  and 
for  the  remainder  of  the  afternoon  snored  grumpily. 

The  hostess  explained  apologetically,  as  she 
brought  the  new  master  a  steaming  cup  of  tea,  that 
indeed  poor  Farquhar  was  the  nice,  kind  body,  but  he 
had  had  the  toothache  all  last  night  and  would  be  ter- 
rible set  on  Ossian. 

Mrs.  MacDonald  was  growing  too  old  for  the 
household  cares  devolving  upon  her,  and  Scotty  being 
her  chief  help,  the  housekeeping  did  not  at  all  com- 
pare with  what  Monteith  was  accustomed  to  in  his 
boarding  place  at  Store  Thompson's.  But  he  was 
conscious  of  no  lack  in  the  dingy  old  house.  He 
recognised  the  inherent  refinement  of  Mrs.  MacDon- 
ald's  nature,  and  bowed  to  it ;  he  knew  Big  Malcolm 
for  a  gentleman  the  moment  he  spoke;  and  he  saw, 


214          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

too,  something  of  the  mystic  in  Hamish.  For  in  later 
years  there  had  grown  an  expression  in  Hamish's  kind 
brown  eyes  which  the  schoolmaster  understood — the 
look  of  a  soul  that  has  longed  to  soar,  but  has  been 
kept  down  by  narrow  limitations. 

Then  the  supper  was  spread  upon  the  table,  and 
it  was  all  the  visitor  could  desire ;  porridge  in  brown 
bowls,  smoking  and  fragrant,  sweet  white  bread,  and 
bannocks  with  plenty  of  maple  syrup.  And  after- 
wards, when  the  supper  was  cleared  away,  and  Scotty 
and  Hamish  had  finished  the  milking,  they  all  gath- 
ered about  the  stove,  which  now  stood  in  front  of  the 
old  discarded  fireplace.  First  the  schoolmaster  had 
to  tell  of  his  life  and  lineage,  during  which  recital  he 
proved  his  Scottish  blood  to  everyone's  satisfaction. 
There  did  not  seem  to  be  much  to  tell  of  his  past  do- 
ings, though  in  response  to  the  simple,  kindly  ques- 
tionings, he  gave  it  all.  He  had  been  born  in  Scot- 
land and  was  quite  alone  in  Canada,  except  for  Cap- 
tain Herbert,  who  was  an  old  friend,  and  whose  wife 
had  been  a  distant  relative.  He  had  studied  law  for 
some  years,  but  his  health  had  failed  before  his  course 
was  completed.  Then  he  had  knocked  about  the 
world  a  good  deal,  and  had  come  north  at  Captain 
Herbert's  advice  to  see  if  the  Oro  air  would  not  do 
him  good. 


IN     THE     REALMS     OF     GOLD    215 

"  Indeed,  and  it  will  that !  "  Big  Malcolm  declared 
heartily.  "  Jist  you  eat  plenty  o'  pork  and  oatmeal 
porridge  and  you'll  be  a  new  man  in  no  time.  Hoots, 
when  we  would  be  coming  here  first  folk  would  never 
be  sick  like  now-a-days ;  and  indeed  it  wasn't  often  a 
man  died  except  a  tree  would  be  falling  on  him, 
whatever." 

"  Those  must  have  been  fine  times,"  said  the 
schoolmaster  smilingly ;  and  thereupon  his  host  and 
hostess  launched  into  long  tales  of  the  old  days,  when 
the  forest  came  up  to  the  door,  and  of  those  older 
and  happier  days  in  the  homeland  across  the  sea. 

Big  Malcolm  and  his  wife  lived  much  in  the  past 
now,  and,  when  the  guest  displayed  a  kindly  interest 
in  their  history,  they  opened  their  hearts  even  to 
speak  of  Callum,  their  light-hearted,  bright  Callum, 
whose  end  had  been  so  untimely.  The  schoolmaster 
heard  also  the  manner  of  his  death;  how  it  had 
brought  the  great  preacher,  and  how  in  the  double 
grave  in  the  Glen  by  the  river  one  of  the  Fighting 
MacDonalds,  at  least,  had  buried  all  his  feuds.  And 
they  told  him,  too,  of  their  only  daughter,  the  beauti- 
ful little  Margaret,  who  had  been  Scotty's  mother. 
Monteith  asked  many  questions  concerning  her,  and 
Scotty  listened  eagerly,  but  his  new  friend  offered 
no  explanation  of  his  interest. 


216         THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

When  it  was  time  to  depart,  Big  Malcolm  was  for 
insisting  that  he  should  spend  the  night  with  them; 
but  when  he  declared  that  he  must  return  to  the  Glen, 
or  Mrs.  Thompson  would  be  worried,  his  hostess  seized 
the  teapot  again,  and  another  supper  was  spread  out, 
of  which  the  guest  had  perforce  to  partake  before 
leaving. 

That  finished,  Big  Malcolm  reverently  laid  aside 
his  bonnet,  and  Scotty  brought  him  the  old  yellow- 
leaved  Bible.  The  old  man  read  the  103d  Psalm  in 
a  triumphant  tone  that  showed  he  had  passed  all  his 
temptations  and  trials,  and  now  in  a  serene  old  age 
his  soul  blessed  the  Lord  for  His  guidance. 

And  then  they  sang  a  Psalm,  Old  Farquhar  coming 
out  from  his  corner  to  join  them.  They  sang  it  in 
English,  in  deference  to  the  guest's  lack  of  Gaelic, 
and  the  brown  rafters  rang  to  the  solemn  old  Scot- 
tish tune  in  harmony  with  the  beautiful  words: 

"Oh,  taste  and  see  that  God  is  good: 
Who  trusts  in  Him  is  bless'd!" 

And  listening,  the  man  of  the  world  experienced  a 
vague  sensation  of  something  like  regretful  envy. 
Had  he  not,  in  his  broader  life,  missed  some  uplifting 
joy,  some  great  blessing  in  which  these  old  people 
rejoiced? 


IN     THE     REALMS     OF     GOLD    217 

While  Monteith  was  taking  a  lingering  farewell 
and  promising  a  speedy  return,  Scotty  went  to  a  cor- 
ner and  lit  the  lantern,  and  in  spite  of  the  school- 
master's protests,  insisted  upon  accompanying  him 
for  a  mile  to  show  him  the  short  road  across  the 
swamp. 

The  two  walked  side  by  side  along  the  snowy 
path,  the  lantern  flashing  fitfully  amongst  the  bare 
branches  and  dark  boles  of  the  trees.  Monteith  chat- 
ted away  pleasantly,  but  Scotty  answered  only  in 
monosyllables.  He  was  employed  in  making  desper- 
ate efforts  to  bring  about  some  allusion  to  the  condi- 
tion of  the  schoolhouse.  But  the  new  master  seemed 
to  have  totally  forgotten  school  affairs,  and  when 
they  came  to  the  end  of  the  forest  path  and  stood 
upon  the  Glenoro  road,  saying  good-night,  this 
strange  man  had  not  in  the  smallest  way  recurred  to 
the  shameful  subject.  Scotty  was  in  despair.  "  It 
would  be  a  fool's  trick  we  were  doing !  "  he  burst  forth, 
as  Monteith  held  out  his  hand  in  farewell,  "  if  we 

could  jist  be  having  another  day "  He  stopped 

overcome. 

The  new  master  did  not  seem  to  need  an  explana- 
tion of  this  apparently  irrelevant  speech.  "  Could 
you  fix  it  all  up  in  one  day  ?  "  he  inquired  in  a  bus- 
iness-like manner. 


218         THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

"  Oh,  yes !  "  Scotty  gasped  eagerly,  "  easy." 

"  All  right,  we'll  take  to-morrow ;  I'll  come  over 
and  help  you.  Good-night !  " 

And  he  turned  away,  leaving  his  pupil  standing  in 
the  middle  of  the  road  amazed  and  humbled. 

Number  Nine  learned  during  the  following  week 
that  for  some  inexplicable  reason  the  MacDonalds, 
whose  hand  had  hitherto  been  against  every  other 
man's  hand,  were  on  the  side  of  the  new  master,  and 
that  anyone  who  gave  him  trouble  was  courting  dire 
calamities  at  the  hands  of  Big  Malcolm's  Scot.  As 
a  direct  result  the  fiat  went  forth  that  Dan  Murphy, 
and  consequently  all  his  generation,  also  approved  of 
the  new  rule.  Subsequently  the  Tenth  announced  its 
neutrality ;  and  from  that  time  the  new  era,  which  had 
arisen  at  the  building  of  the  church  in  the  social 
world  of  the  Oro  valley,  dawned  in  the  schoolhouse 
too,  and  the  land  had  rest  from  war. 

To  no  one  did  the  new  dispensation  bring  greater 
things  than  to  Scotty.  Ever  since  the  days  when  all 
knowledge  and  wisdom  could  be  extracted,  by  per- 
sistent questionings,  from  Hamish,  he  had  experienced 
an  unslakable  thirst  for  books.  He  had  been  much 
more  fortunate  in  finding  reading  material  than  his 
uncle  had  been,  for  Captain  Herbert's  library  was  al- 
ways at  Scotty's  disposal.  Every  summer  and  win- 


IN     THE     REALMS     OF     GOLD    219 

ter  Isabel  came  to  Kirsty's  laden  with  books,  and 
what  feasts  she  and  Scotty  had  reading  under  the 
boughs  of  the  Silver  Maple  or  before  Kirsty's  fire! 
Dickens,  Scott,  Thackeray,  Macaulay — they  de- 
voured them  all;  and  once,  by  mistake,  she  had 
brought  some  books  by  a  wonderful  man  named  Car- 
lyle,  which  she  declared  were  dreadfully  stupid,  but 
which  Scotty  found  strangely  fascinating,  though 
somewhat  beyond  his  understanding. 

But  Isabel  had  been  away  at  school  for  more  than 
a  year  now,  and  though  she  wrote  Scotty  voluminous 
letters,  which  he  answered  at  shamefully  long  inter- 
vals, and  only  when  Kirsty's  reproaches  goaded  him 
to  the  effort,  she  had  almost  entirely  passed  out  of 
his  life. 

So  when  there  had  been  no  more  books  to  read  he 
had  turned  his  restless  energies  into  less  profitable 
channels.  But  now,  here  were  not  only  books  of  all 
kinds,  but  a  man  ready  and  willing  to  interpret  them. 
Scotty  heard  no  more  of  the  sentence  of  expulsion, 
and  with  the  energy  that  characterised  everything  he 
did,  he  plunged  headlong  into  a  course  of  study  far 
beyond  any  public  school  curriculum.  Monteith  was 
first  amazed,  then  delighted,  and  lastly  found  he  had 
to  set  himself  severe  tasks  to  keep  sufficiently  ahead 
of  his  pupil. 


220         THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

And  in  return  for  his  pains  Scotty  gave  an  al- 
legiance to  his  master  that  had  in  it  something  of 
homage.  Not  the  gay,  reckless  Callum  was  his  hero 
now,  but  this  quiet,  self-controlled  gentleman.  Un- 
consciously the  boy  copied  him  in  every  particular, 
and  unquestioningly  adopted  his  opinions.  Mon- 
teith  had  seen  the  world,  had  lived  in  cities,  and  even 
in  that  magic  land,  "  the  old  country,"  and  surely 
he  should  be  an  authority.  Scotty  early  learned  that 
the  new  master  despised  the  tavern,  not  quite  in  the 
way  Store  Thompson  and  the  minister  and  his  grand- 
father did,  as  a  force  of  evil,  but  in  lofty  scorn  of 
its  lowness. 

In  consequence  the  boy  was  never  found  hang- 
ing about  its  doors  any  more.  And  though  the 
teacher  said  nothing  about  his  religious  views,  the 
pupil  soon  learned  and  adopted  them  too.  Monteith 
treated  all  creeds  with  a  good-natured  tolerance.  The 
Bible,  he  declared,  was  a  grand  piece  of  literature, 
and  he  liked  to  go  to  church  because  Mr.  Cameron's 
sermons  gave  him  some  intellectual  stimulus.  Re- 
ligion he  characterised  chiefly  as  an  emotion.  A 
man  needed  only  common  sense  to  show  him  how  to 
live,  he  declared.  Scotty  felt  that  this  was  the  creed 
for  him;  he  had  come  under  Monteith's  control  at  a 
period  when  he  was  in  revolt  against  all  earlier  re- 


IN     THE     REALMS     OF     GOLD 

straint  and  rejoiced  in  the  feeling  of  independence 
which  the  new  belief  brought. 

The  two  soon  became  fast  friends  in  their  common 
pursuit  of  learning.  When  the  second  winter  came, 
and  Scotty  had  become  too  old  for  school,  he  and 
Monteith  studied  together  in  the  long  evenings,  and 
each  month  of  companionship  served  to  deepen  their 
friendship.  But  in  spite  of  their  intimacy  the  boy 
never  elicited  any  explanation  of  his  friend's  strange 
behaviour  when  he  first  realised  that  Scotty's  name 
was  Stanwell.  Monteith  was  always  careful  to  call 
him  Ralph,  but  he  forebore  from  any  allusion  to  the 
subject;  and  as  the  days  went  happily  on  the  matter 
dropped  from  the  boy's  thoughts. 


XI 

THE    WEAVER'S    REWARD 

Love  came  at  dawn  when  all  the  world  was  fair, 
When  crimson  glories,  bloom  and  song  were  rife; 
Love  came  at  dawn  when  hope's  wings  fanned  the  air, 
And  murmured,  "  I  am  life." 

Love  came  at  even   when  the  day  was  done, 

When  heart  and  brain  were  tired  and  slumber  pressed; 

Love  came  at  eve,  shut  out  the  sinking  sun, 

And  whispered,  "  I  am  rest." 

— WILLIAM  WILFRED  CAMPBELL. 

AD  just  as  Scotty  entered  manhood  a  won- 
derful thing  happened  in  the  Highlands, 
something  that  amazed  the  neighbours  and 
convinced  them  of  the  instability  of  all  things,  par- 
ticularly of  a  woman's  resolution,  for  Kirsty  John 
promised  to  marry  the  Weaver.  All  these  weary 
years,  as  faithful  as  the  sun  and  as  untiring,  Jimmie 
had  been  climbing  the  hills  to  the  Oa  to  shed  the 
beams  of  his  devotion  unheeded  at  Kirsty's  doorstep ; 
but  now  the  long  period  of  Jacob-like  service  was 
over,  for  he  had  at  last  won  his  Rachel. 

Some  declared  that  this  was  only  a  new  method 

222 


THE     WEAVER'S     REWARD 

Kirsty  had  found  for  tormenting  her  hapless  lover, 
and  that  after  they  were  tied  up  she  would  lead  him 
a  dog's  life.  But  Long  Lauchie's  girls — there  were 
still  girls  at  Long  Lauchie's,  though  a  goodly  number 
of  matrons  looked  back  to  the  place  as  their  old  home 
— declared  that  Jimmie  no  longer  dodged  when  Kirsty 
passed  him,  and  that  he  even  entered  her  house  with- 
out knocking.  And  Big  Malcolm's  wife  would  shake 
her  head  smilingly  at  all  the  dark  predictions  and  de- 
clare in  her  quiet,  firm  way  that  indeed  they  need 
never  fear  for  Jimmie. 

And  she  was  right ;  the  Weaver  was  not  undertak- 
ing any  such  hazardous  enterprise  as  the  neighbours 
supposed.  For  a  change  had  come  over  Kirsty  the 
winter  she  lost  the  frail  little  mother,  and  only  Big 
Malcolm's  wife  knew  its  depth.  All  Kirsty's  bold 
courage,  all  her  fearless  fight  with  poverty,  had  had 
for  its  inspiration  the  poor  sufferer  on  the  bed  in  the 
corner  of  the  little  shanty,  and  when  the  spring  of 
action  was  removed  there  went  also  the  daughter's 
dauntless  spirit,  and  nowhere  was  the  change  so 
strongly  evinced  as  in  this  promise  to  marry  the 
Weaver. 

Kirsty's  grief  had  no  bitterness  in  it.  It  had  sof- 
tened her  greatly,  for  the  little  mother's  death  had 
been  as  beautiful  as  her  patient,  pain-filled  life.  And 


224          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

wonderful  it  seemed  that,  like  that  other  woman  who 
had  suffered  so  long  before,  just  eighteen  years  of 
pain  had  been  completed  when  the  Master  called  her 
to  Him  and  said  in  His  infinite  love,  "  Woman,  thou 
art  loosed  from  thine  infirmity." 

"  But  you  will  surely  not  be  leaving  me,"  pleaded 
Kirsty  brokenly  when  her  mother  told  her  the  end 
could  not  be  far  off.  "  Ah  've  nobody  but  you." 

"  Eh,  ma  lassie,  ye'll  be  better  wi'oot  such  a  puir 
auld  buddie,  jist  a  burden  to  ye  a'  these  years." 

"  Oh,  mother,  mother,  ye'll  surely  not  be  talkin* 
that  way  to  me,"  sobbed  her  daughter. 

"  Eh,  eh,  lass !  There,  there !  It's  naething  but 
the  best  Ah  could  say  to  ye,  Kirsty."  The  weak  old 
hand  was  fumbling  feebly  for  Kirsty's  bowed  head. 
"  For,  eh,  ye've  jist  been  that  guid  to  yer  mither,  the 
Lord'll  reward  ye ;  Ah've  nae  fear  o'  ye,  Kirsty,  He'll 
reward  ye."  There  was  a  long  silence  in  the  little 
room.  The  fire  flared  up  in  the  old  chimney,  the 
clock's  noisy  pendulum  went  tap,  tap,  tap,  loud  and 
clear  in  the  stillness.  "Read  it  tae  me  jist  once 
mair,  Kirsty,"  she  whispered.  Kirsty  arose  and 
fetched  the  old  yellow-leaved  Bible  from  the  dresser. 
She  did  not  need  to  be  told  what  she  was  to  read. 

"  Aye,"  whispered  the  old  woman  with  a  gleam  of 
triumph  in  her  eyes,  "  aye,  He  called  her;  an'  it's  jist 


THE     WEAVER'S     REWARD    225 

eighteen  year.  Aye,  eighteen !  Eh,  it's  been  a  long 
time,  Kirsty,"  she  continued  as  her  daughter  seated 
herself  at  the  bedside  again,  "  eh,  a  weary  time,  an' 
the  pain's  been  that  bad,  whiles,  Ah  wished  He  would 
tak'  it  awa,  but  Ah  didna  ask  Him.  No,  no!  She 
didna  ask  Him,  an'  Ah  jist  waited  like  her,  an'  it's 
eighteen  year,  and  Ah  think  He'll  be  callin'  me. 
.  .  .  Read  it,  Kirsty." 

Kirsty  opened  the  Book;  her  eyes  were  blinded 
with  tears,  but  she  had  so  often  read  that  passage 
that  she  knew  it  by  heart.  She  was  faltering  through 
it  when  a  timid  step  sounded,  a  crunch,  crunch  on  the 
snow  outside  the  door,  and  a  low  tap,  scarcely  audible 
above  the  noise  of  the  clock,  announced  Weaver  Jim- 
mie.  Old  Collie,  lying  before  the  fire,  so  accustomed 
to  Jimmie's  approach,  merely  uttered  a  gruff  snort, 
as  though  to  apprise  all  that  he  was  well  aware  that 
someone  had  arrived,  but  did  not  consider  the  visitor 
worthy  of  his  notice.  But  as  Kirsty  opened  the  door 
he  thumped  his  tail  upon  the  hearthstone. 

For  the  first  time  in  his  life  Weaver  Jimmie  real- 
ised that  Kirsty  was  glad  to  see  him,  and  his  heart 
leaped.  But  he  choked  at  the  sight  of  her  grief- 
stricken  face,  and  could  only  stand  and  look  down 
at  his  great  "  shoepacks  "  in  the  snow. 

"  Will  ye  bring  Big  Malcolm's  Marget,"  whispered 


226          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

Kirsty,  "  mother's "  She  stopped,  unable  to  say 

more,  but  more  was  unnecessary,  for,  eager  to  do  her 
bidding,  Jimmie  was  already  off  across  the  white 
clearing  and  was  lost  to  view  before  she  could  shut 
the  door. 

Kirsty  went  softly  back  to  the  bed. 

"  Was  it  Jimmie  ?  "  whispered  her  mother. 

"  Yes." 

"  He's  a  kind  chiel,  Kirsty.  Ye  must  marry  puir 
Jimmie,  ma  lassock,  he's  got  a  guid  hert,  an'  he'll 
mak'  ye  a  kind  man,  an'  Ah'll  no  be  fearin'  for  ye." 
She  paused,  and  then  came  the  whisper,  "  Read  it." 
So  Kirsty  read  it  to  her  for  the  last  time,  the  sweet 
old  story  that  had  comforted  the  poor,  pain-racked 
woman  and  upheld  her  in  patience  and  fortitude  for 
eighteen  weary  years  of  suffering.  And  when  at  the 
end  of  the  story  came  those  gracious  words  bearing 
a  world  of  love  and  divine  compassion,  "  And  Jesus 
called  her  to  Him  and  said  unto  her,  Woman,  thou 
art  loosed  from  thine  infirmity,"  Kirsty  paused.  Her 
mother  always  interrupted  there,  always  broke  in  with 
a  word  of  triumph,  a  renewal  of  the  firm  faith  that 
for  eighteen  years  had  forbidden  her  to  ask  for  relief. 
But  as  she  waited  now  there  came  no  sound,  and, 
looking  up,  she  saw  that  the  Divine  Healer  had 
loosep!  this  other  woman  frpm  her  infirmity  and 


THE     WEAVER'S     REWARD    227 

made  her  straight  and  beautiful  in  His  kingdom  of 
happiness. 

And  so  Kirsty,  always  kind  and  true-hearted,  had 
been  made  better  and  more  womanly  by  her  trial ;  and 
although  she  kept  her  faithful  suitor  waiting  for  a 
couple  of  years  more,  she  yielded  at  last  and  the 
Weaver  received  his  reward. 

As  if  to  be  in  keeping  with  the  time  of  life  at  which 
the  bride  and  groom  had  arrived,  the  wedding  day 
was  set  in  the  autumn;  the  soft  vaporous  October 
days  when  the  Oro  forests  were  all  aflame. 

Kirsty  had  refused  to  leave  her  little  farm ;  so  Jim- 
mie,  well  content,  had  a  fine  new  frame  house  built 
close  to  her  old  home ;  and  as  soon  as  the  wedding  was 
over  he  was  to  bring  his  loom  from  the  Glen  and  they 
would  begin  their  new  life  together. 

Kirsty  declared  that  he  might  bring  the  loom  any 
day,  for  there  was  to  be  no  nonsense  at  her  wedding ; 
they  would  drive  to  the  minister's  in  the  Glen  by  them- 
selves, and  she  would  be  home  in  time  to  milk  the  cows 
in  the  evening. 

But  when  she  saw  the  bitter  disappointment  a  quiet 
wedding  would  be  to  the  prospective  groom,  she  had 
not  the  heart  to  insist.  For  years  Jimmie  had  buoyed 
up  his  sorely-tried  courage  by  the  ecstatic  picture  of 


228          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

himself  and  Kirsty  dancing  on  their  wedding  night,  he 
the  envy  of  all  the  MacDonald  boys,  she  the  pattern 
for  all  the  girls ;  and  though  neither  he  nor  his  bride 
were  any  longer  young,  he  still  cherished  his  youth- 
ful dream.  And  then  Long  Lauchie's  girls  came  over 
in  a  body  and  demanded  a  wedding  and  a  fine  big 
dance,  and  even  Big  Malcolm's  wife  declared  it  would 
hardly  be  right  not  to  have  some  public  recognition 
of  the  fact  that  there  was  a  wedding  among  the 
MacDonalds. 

And  so,  laughing  at  what  she  called  their  foolish- 
ness, Kirsty  yielded,  and  the  girls  came  over  and 
sewed  and  scrubbed  and  baked,  and  Scotty  and  Peter 
Lauchie  gathered  in  the  apples  and  turnips  and  pota- 
toes and  raked  away  all  the  dead  leaves  and  made 
everything  neat  and  tidy  for  the  great  event. 

And  the  day  actually  dawned,  in  spite  of  Weaver 
Jimmie's  anticipation  that  some  dire  catastrophe 
would  befall  to  prevent  it.  A  radiant  autumn  day 
it  was,  a  Canadian  autumn  day,  when  all  the  best  days 
of  the  year  seem  combined  to  crown  its  close.  The 
dazzling  skies  belonged  to  June,  the  air  was  of  balmi- 
est May,  and  the  earth  was  clothed  in  hues  of  the 
richest  August  blooms.  The  forest  was  a  blaze  of 
colour.  The  sumachs  and  the  woodbine  made  flaming 
patches  on  the  hills  and  in  the  fence-corners.  The 


THE     WEAVER'S     REWARD    229 

glossy  oaks,  with  their  polished  bronze  leaves,  and  the 
pale,  yellow  elms  softened  the  glow  and  blended  with 
the  distant  purple  haze.  But  Canada's  own  maple 
made  all  the  rest  of  the  forest  look  pale,  where  it  lined 
the  road  to  the  bride's  house,  in  rainbows  of  colour, 
rose  and  gold  and  passionate  crimson. 

Early  in  the  afternoon  high  double  buggies,  wag- 
gons, and  buckboards  began  clattering  up  the  lane 
to  Kirsty's  dwelling.  And  such  a  crowd  as  they 
brought!  In  the  exuberance  of  his  joy  Weaver  Jim- 
mie  had  bidden  all  and  sundry  between  the  two  lakes. 
And  besides,  everyone  in  the  Oa  went  to  a  MacDonald 
wedding,  anyway.  Invitations  were  always  issued  in 
a  rather  haphazard  fashion,  and  if  one  did  not  get  a 
direct  call,  it  mattered  little  in  this  land  of  prodigal 
hospitality,  for  one  always  bestowed  a  compliment 
upon  one's  host  by  attending. 

Long  Lauchie's  girls  took  the  whole  affair  out  of 
Kirsty's  hands  and  arranged  everything  to  their 
hearts'  desire.  The  cooking  and  washing  of  dishes 
was  to  be  done  in  the  old  house,  while  the  double  cere- 
mony of  the  marriage  and  the  wedding  dinner  was  to 
be  performed  in  the  new  establishment. 

This  place  was  gaily  decorated  with  the  aromatic 
boughs  of  the  cedar,  dressed  with  scarlet  berries  and 
crimson  maple  leaves.  A  table  at  one  end  held  the 


230          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

wedding  presents.  This  was  the  work  of  the  Lauchie 
girls,  too,  for  Kirsty  felt  it  was  nothing  short  of 
ostentation  to  put  up  to  the  public  gaze  all  the  fine 
quilts  and  blankets  and  hooked  mats  the  neighbours 
had  given  her  towards  the  furnishing  of  the  new  home. 
But  the  girls  had  their  way  in  this  as  in  all  other  ar- 
rangements, and  most  conspicuous  in  the  fine  array 
were  a  Bible  from  the  minister  and  a  set  of  fine  gilt- 
edged  china  dishes  from  Captain  Herbert's  family. 

And  amidst  all  this  splendour  sat  the  bride,  sedate 
and  happy,  arrayed  in  a  bright  blue  poplin  dress  and 
the  regulation  white  cap. 

Beside  her  sat  Jimmie,  his  arm  about  her  in  proper 
bridegroom  fashion,  but  loosely,  for  Kirsty  was  not 
to  be  trifled  with,  even  on  her  wedding  day.  He  sat 
up,  erect  and  stiff,  strangling  ecstatically  in  a  flaring 
white  collar,  and  striving  manfully  to  keep  his  broad 
smiles  from  overflowing  into  loud  laughter,  for  poor 
Jimmie's  belated  joy  bordered  on  the  hysterical.  His 
magnificent  appearance  almost  eclipsed  the  bride.  He 
wore  a  coat  of  black,  such  as  the  minister  himself 
might  have  envied,  a  saffron  waistcoat,  and  a  pair  of 
black  and  white  trousers  of  a  startlingly  large  check. 
His  hair  was  oiled  and  combed  up  fiercely,  his  red 
whiskers  waged  a  doubtful  warfare  for  first  place 
with  the  white  collar,  his  big  feet  were  doubly  con- 


THE     WEAVER'S     REWARD    231 

spicuous  in  a  pair  of  red-topped,  high-heeled  boots 
which,  unfortunately,  met  the  trousers  halfway  and 
swallowed  up  much  of  their  glory.  But  as  both  could 
not  be  exposed,  Jimmie,  evidently  believing  in  the  sur- 
vival of  the  fittest,  had  allowed  the  boots  the  place  of 
honour. 

Scotty  drove  his  grandmother  over  to  Kirsty's 
early  in  the  morning,  for  the  bride  said  she  must  have 
her  mother's  old  friend  with  her  all  day;  and  when 
he  returned  in  company  with  Hamish,  his  grand- 
father, and  Old  Farquhar,  it  was  almost  the  hour  set 
for  the  ceremony. 

The  wedding  guests  had  already  gathered  in  large 
numbers,  many  of  them  standing  about  the  door  or  in 
the  garden — matrons  in  gay  plaid  shawls,  with  here 
and  there  a  fantastic  "  Paisley  "  brought  out,  for 
this  festive  occasion,  from  the  seclusion  of  some  deep 
sea-chest;  men,  weather-beaten  and  stooped,  in  grey 
flannel  shirtsleeves,  showing  an  occasional  genteel 
Sabbath  coat  from  the  Glen ;  bright-eyed  lasses,  with 
gay  touches  of  finery  to  brighten  their  young  beauty ; 
youths  in  heavy  boots  and  homespun  clothing,  gath- 
ered in  laughing  groups  as  far  from  the  house  as 
possible;  and  everywhere  babies  of  all  sizes. 

Scotty  left  a  crowd  of  his  friends  at  the  barn  and 
went  up  to  the  house  to  look  for  Monteith.  The 


232          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

schoolmaster  had  spent  the  preceding  Saturday  and 
Sunday  with  his  friends  at  Lake  Oro,  but  had  prom- 
ised Jimmie  faithfully  that  he  would  not  miss  the 
wedding.  As  the  young  man  swung  open  the  little 
garden  gate  and  came  up  the  pathway  between  rows 
of  Kirsty's  asters  he  caught  sight  of  his  friend  stand- 
ing in  the  doorway  of  the  new  house,  and  gave  a  gay 
whistle.  Monteith  looked  up  quickly,  but  instead  of 
answering  he  turned  to  someone  inside  the  house. 

"  Here  he  is  at  last,"  he  called,  "  come  and  see  if 
you  think  he's  grown  any." 

And  the  same  instant  a  vision  flashed  Into  the  little 
doorway,  a  vision  that  nearly  took  away  Scotty's 
breath — a  tall  young  lady  in  a  blue  velvet  gown 
with  a  sweet,  laughing  face  and  a  crown  of  golden 
hair  overshadowed  by  a  big  plumed  hat,  a  lady  who 
looked  as  if  she  had  just  stepped  out  of  a  book  of 
romance;  a  high-born  princess,  very  remote  and  un- 
approachable, and  yet,  somehow,  strangely,  enchant- 
ingly  familiar. 

The  vision  apparently  did  not  want  to  be  remote, 
for  it  came  down  the  steps  in  a  little,  headlong  rush, 
casting  a  pair  of  gloves  to  one  side  and  a  cape  to  the 
other,  and  caught  hold  of  both  Scotty's  hands. 

"  Scotty!  Oh,  oh,  Scotty,  dear!  "  it  cried ;  and 
then  it  was  no  longer  an  unapproachable  heroine  from 


THE     WEAVER'S     REWARD    233 

a  story-book,  but  just  Isabel;  Isabel,  his  old  chum, 
and  something  more,  something  strangely  wonder- 
fully new. 

Scotty  did  not  return  her  welcome  with  the  warmth 
he  would  have  shown  a  few  years  earlier.  He  stood 
gazing  down  at  her  as  if  in  a  dream,  and  then  the 
red  came  up  under  the  dark  tan  of  his  cheek  and 
overspread  his  face.  He  dropped  her  hands  and 
looked  around  hastily,  as  if  he  wanted  to  escape.  But 
Isabel  dragged  him  up  the  garden  path  in  her  old 
way,  deluging  him  with  questions  for  which  she  never 
waited  an  answer.  She  had  seen  Granny  Malcolm 
and  Betty  and  Peter,  and  she  had  been  afraid  he 
wasn't  coming.  And,  oh,  wasn't  it  an  awfully  long 
time  since  she  had  seen  any  of  them?  And  didn't  he 
think  he  was  very  unkind  not  to  have  answered  her 
last  two  letters?  And  she  had  been  away  at  school 
all  this  endless  time,  not  home  to  the  Grange  even  in 
the  summer !  And,  oh,  how  glad  she  was  to  get  back ! 
And  how  he  had  grown  !  Why,  he  was  a  giant !  And 
had  he  missed  her?  She  had  missed  him  just  awfully, 
for  Harold  was  away  all  the  time  now.  And  wasn't 
it  just  too  perfectly  lovely  for  anything  that  Kirsty 
and  Jimmie  were  getting  married,  and  that  he  and 
she  were  together  at  the  wedding? 

Scotty  stood  and  listened  to  these  ecstatic  outpour- 


234,         THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

ings,  his  head  swimming.  He  was  enveloped  in  a 
rose-coloured  mist,  a  mist  in  which  blue  velvet  and 
golden  hair  and  dancing  eyes  surrounded  and  daz- 
zled him.  One  moment  he  was  a  child  again,  and 
his  little  playmate  had  come  back,  and  the  next  he 
was  a  man  and  Isabel  was  the  lady  of  romance.  And 
while  he  stood  in  this  delightful  daze  someone  came 
and  took  the  vision  away;  he  thought  it  was  Mary 
Lauchie,  but  was  not  sure.  When  she  had  disap- 
peared into  the  new  house  he  awoke  sufficiently  to 
notice  that  Monteith  was  standing  at  the  door  regard- 
ing him  with  twinkling  eyes,  and  for  the  second  time 
that  afternoon  he  blushed. 

The  crowd  was  beginning  to  gravitate  towards  the 
new  house,  and  Scotty  soon  found  an  excuse  to  enter 
also.  It  hadn't  been  a  dream  after  all,  for  she  was 
there,  sitting  close  by  Kirsty,  holding  her  hand,  and 
surrounded  by  the  people  who  made  up  the  more  gen- 
teel portion  of  society  in  the  Oa  and  the  Glen.  A 
little  space  seemed  to  divide  them  from  the  common 
crowd,  and  she  sat,  the  recognised  centre  of  the 
group.  Scotty  noticed,  too,  that  even  Mrs.  Cameron, 
the  minister's  wife,  treated  the  young  lady  with  bland 
deference,  quite  unlike  her  manner  of  kind  condescen- 
sion towards  the  MacDonald  girls.  As  he  watched 
the  graceful  gestures  and  easy  well-bred  air  of  his 


THE     WEAVER'S     REWARD    235 

late  comrade,  Scotty  was  suddenly  smitten  with  a 
sense  of  his  own  shortcomings ;  he  was  rough,  un- 
couth, awkward.  Isabel  belonged  to  a  different 
sphere :  she  was  far  removed  from  him  and  his  people. 
It  was  the  first  time  he  had  realised  the  difference, 
and  he  felt  it  just  at  the  moment  that  it  first  had 
power  to  hurt  him.  He  experienced  a  sudden  return 
of  the  old  wild  ambition  that  used  to  shake  him  in 
his  childhood  when  Rory  played  a  warlike  air.  And 
then  he  wanted  to  slip  out  and  go  away  from  the  wed- 
ding feast  and  never  see  Isabel  again.  He  glanced  at 
her  again,  and  felt  resentfully  that  she  must  surely 
be  guilty  of  the  sin  of  "  pride,"  which  so  character- 
ised the  class  to  which  she  belonged. 

But  he  had  soon  to  change  his  mind.  The  blue 
eyes  had  been  glancing  eagerly  about  the  room,  and 
as  soon  as  they  spied  him  their  owner  arose  and  came 
crushing  through  the  throng  towards  him.  For 
though  Scotty  was  distrustful,  Isabel's  frank  sim- 
plicity of  nature  had  not  changed  in  her  years  of 
absence.  Her  happiest  days  had  been  spent  in  the 
Oa,  and  her  return  to  her  old  home  with  its  sense  of 
welcome  and  freedom  meant  more  to  the  lonely  girl 
than  he  could  realise.  Practically  she  had  been 
brought  up  among  the  MacDonalds,  and  at  heart  she 
was  one  of  them. 


236         THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

Scotty  saw  her  approach  in  combined  joy  and 
embarrassment,  and  just  as  he  was  trying  to  efface 
himself  in  a  corner  he  found  her  at  his  side.  She 
wanted  to  talk  about  the  good  old  times,  she  whis- 
pered, as  she  pulled  him  down  beside  her  on  the  low 
window  sill.  "  They  were  just  the  loveliest  old  times, 
weren't  they,  Scotty?  And  don't  you  hate  to  be 
grown  up  ?  "  she  asked. 

Hate  it?  Scotty  gloried  in  it.  It  was  a  new 
birth.  He  tried  to  say  so,  but  Isabel  shook  her  head 
emphatically. 

"  Well,  I  don't,  and  you  wouldn't  in  my  place, 
for  I  can't  run  in  the  bush  any  more.  Aunt 
Eleanor  bewails  me;  she  says  I've  been  spoiled  by 
Kirsty,  for  I  can't  settle  down  to  a  proper  life  in 
the  city.  The  backwoods  is  the  best  place,  isn't  it, 
Scotty?" 

He  drew  a  long  breath.  "  Do  you  mean  you'd 
really  like  to  come  here  and  live  with — with  Kirsty 
again  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Oh,  wouldn't  I  ?  "  she  cried,  her  eyes  sparkling  so 
that  Scotty  had  to  look  away.  "  It  was  never  dull 
here.  Don't  you  wish  I'd  come  back,  too  ?  " 

Scotty  felt  his  head  reeling.  "  I — don't  know," 
he  faltered  ungallantly. 

"  You    don't    know  ? "    she    echoed    indignantly. 


THE     WEAVER'S     REWARD    237 

"  Scotty  MacDonald,  how  can  you  say  such  a  mean 
thing?  " 

Scotty  looked  up  with  a  sudden  desperate  boldness. 

"  Because  I  wouldn't  be  doing  any  work  if  you 
were  here,"  he  exclaimed  with  a  recklessness  that  ap- 
palled even  himself. 

Isabel  laughed  delightedly.  "  That's  lovely,"  she 
cried.  "  Do  you  know,  I  was  beginning  to  be  afraid, 
almost,  that  you  weren't  just  very  glad  to  see  me,  and 
— and  you  always  used  to  be.  You  are  glad  I  came, 
aren't  you,  Scotty  ?  " 

Like  a  timid  swimmer,  who,  having  once  plunged 
in,  discovers  his  own  strength  and  gains  courage, 
Scotty  struck  out  boldly  into  the  conversational  sea. 

"  It  was  the  best  thing  that  ever  happened  in  all 
my  life,"  he  answered  deliberately. 

She  was  prevented  from  receiving  this  important 
declaration  with  the  consideration  it  deserved  by  a 
sudden  silence  falling  over  the  room.  The  minister 
was  standing  up  in  the  centre  of  the  room,  clearing 
his  throat  and  looking  around  portentously.  The 
ceremony  was  about  to  commence,  and  all  conversa- 
tion was  instantly  hushed.  Mothers  quieted  their 
babies,  and  the  men  came  clumsily  tiptoeing  indoors. 
Whenever  possible  the  more  ceremonious  precincts  of 
the  house  were  left  to  the  more  adaptable  sex,  the 


238          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

masculine  portion  of  such  assemblies  always  retiring 
to  the  greater  freedom  of  the  barn  and  outbuildings. 
Now  they  came  crowding  in,  however,  obviously  em- 
barrassed, but  when  the  minister  stood  up,  book  in 
hand,  and  a  hush  fell  over  the  room,  the  affair  took 
on  a  religious  aspect  and  everyone  felt  more  at  home. 

Mr.  Cameron  moved  to  a  little  open  space  in  the 
centre  of  the  room,  and  bade  Kirsty  and  Weaver  Jim- 
mie  stand  before  him.  Mary  Lauchie,  pale  and 
drooping  as  she  always  was  now,  stood  at  Kirsty's 
side,  and  Jimmie  had  the  much  needed  support  of 
Roarin'  Sandy's  Archie,  now  the  most  fashionable 
young  man  in  the  Oa,  who  was  resplendent  in  aromatic 
hair  oil  and  a  flaming  tie.  Jimmie  was  white  and 
trembling,  but  Kirsty  was  calm.  Only  once  did  she 
show  any  emotion,  when  she  had  to  search  for  her 
neatly-folded  handkerchief  in  the  pocket  of  her  ample 
skirt  to  wipe  away  a  tear — a  tear  that,  all  the  sym- 
pathetic onlookers  knew,  was  for  the  little  mother 
who  had  said  so  confidently  she  had  no  fears  for 
Kirsty's  future. 

At  last  the  minister  pronounced  them  one,  and 
the  friends  gathered  about  them  with  their  congrat- 
ulations, and,  to  the  delight  of  all,  what  should  Miss 
Herbert  do,  after  hugging  the  bride,  but  fling  her 
arms  about  the  bridegroom's  neck  also  and  give  him 


THE     WEAVER'S     REWARD    239 

a  sounding  kiss !  If  anything  could  have  added  to 
Jimmie's  pride  and  joy  at  that  moment,  this  treat- 
ment by  Kirsty's  little  girl  would  certainly  have 
done  so. 

And  then  came  the  wedding  supper,  the  tables  set 
out  with  the  precious  new  china  dishes  and  weighed 
down  and  piled  up  with  everything  good  the  Mac- 
Donald  matrons  knew  how  to  cook.  The  bride  and 
groom  sat  close  together  at  the  head  of  the  long 
table,  Jimmie's  affectionate  demonstrations  partially 
hidden  by  the  huge  wedding  cake.  The  minister  sat 
at  the  foot,  and  after  a  long  and  fervent  grace  had 
been  said  everyone  drew  a  deep  breath  and  proceeded 
to  enjoy  himself. 

There  was  a  deal  of  clatter  and  noise  and  laughter 
and  running  to  and  fro  of  waiters.  In  the  old  house 
where  the  work  was  going  on,  and  where  there  was 
no  minister  to  put  a  damper  on  the  proceedings, 
there  were  high  times  indeed;  for  Dan  Murphy  was 
there,  and  wherever  Dan  was  there  was  sure  to  be  an 
uproar.  Scotty  was  responsible  for  the  young  man's 
presence ;  he  had  invited  Mr.  Murphy  on  the  strength 
of  his  own  relationship  to  both  contracting  parties, 
knowing  a  warm  welcome  was  assured.  So,  with  an 
apron  tied  round  his  waist,  Dan  was  making  a  fine 
pretence  of  helping  Betty  Lauchie  wash  dishes,  his 


240         THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

chief  efforts,  however,  being  directed  towards  balanc- 
ing pots  of  boiling  water  in  impossible  positions, 
twirling  precious  plates  in  the  air,  and  other  outland- 
ish feats  that  added  a  great  deal  to  the  enjoyment, 
but  very  little  to  the  competence,  of  the  assembled 
cooks. 

Scotty  joined  the  army  of  workers  in  the  shanty, 
but  he  had  left  the  blue  vision  seated  at  the  table  be- 
tween his  grandparents,  and  his  culinary  efforts  were 
not  much  more  successful  than  Dan's.  His  chum 
tried  to  rally  him  on  his  absent  looks,  and  made  a 
sly  allusion  to  the  effusive  greeting  of  the  young 
lady  from  Lake  Oro.  But  Scotty  met  his  well-meant 
raillery  with  such  unwonted  ferocity  that  he  very 
promptly  subsided. 

In  the  new  house,  where  the  elder  guests  were  gath- 
ered about  the  table,  affairs  were  much  more  cere- 
monious, for  all  the  genteel  folk  the  neighbourhood 
could  boast  were  there,  and  Jimmie's  face  shone  with 
pride  as  he  glanced  down  the  splendid  array. 

The  bridegroom's  j  oy  seemed  to  permeate  the  whole 
feast.  There  was  much  talk  and  laughter,  and, 
among  the  elder  women,  a  wonderful  clatter  of 
Gaelic.  For  only  on  such  rare  occasions  as  this  had 
they  a  chance  to  meet,  and  there  were  many  lengthy 
recountings  of  sicknesses,  deaths,  and  burials. 


THE     WEAVER'S     REWARD    241 

Long  Lauchie,  as  usual,  was  full  of  vague  and 
ominous  prophecies.  His  remarks  were  chiefly  con- 
cerning the  wedding  feast  to  which  those  who  were 
bidden  refused  to  come,  with  dark  reference  to  the 
man  who  had  not  on  the  wedding  garment ;  neither 
of  which  allusions,  surely,  pointed  to  either  Weaver 
Jimmie  or  his  marriage  festivities.  Near  him,  in  a 
little  circle  where  English  was  spoken,  Praying  Don- 
ald and  the  minister  were  leading  a  discussion  on  the 
evidences  of  Christianity.  There  was  only  one  quar- 
ter in  which  there  were  signs  of  anything  but  perfect 
amity,  and  that  was  where  a  heated  argument  had 
arisen  between  Old  Farquhar  and  Peter  Sandy  John- 
stone  upon  the  respective  merits  of  Ossian  and  Burns ; 
a  discussion  which,  in  spite  of  the  age  of  the  dis- 
putants, would  certainly  have  ended  in  blows,  had  it 
been  in  the  old  days  when  a  marriage  was  scarcely 
considered  binding  without  a  liberal  supply  of 
whiskey. 

But  Kirsty's  wedding,  happily,  belonged  to  the 
new  era,  and  the  minister,  glancing  round  the  well 
conducted  assemblage  and  recalling  the  days,  not  so 
far  past,  when  most  of  the  Highlanders  enlivened  any 
and  every  social  function,  from  a  barn-raising  to  a 
burial,  with  spirits,  heaved  a  great  sigh  of  gratitude. 
And  Store  Thompson  unconsciously  voiced  his  senti- 


24,2         THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

ments  when  he  declared,  in  a  neatly  turned  little 
speech,  that  the  occasion  was  "  jist  an  auspicious  con- 
summation-like." 

There  were  several  other  speakers  besides  the  min- 
ister and  Store  Thompson,  and  each  made  the  kindliest 
allusions  to  both  bride  and  groom ;  but,  like  the  true 
Scots  they  were,  carefully  refrained  from  paying 
compliments.  There  were  songs  and  stories,  too, 
stirring  Scottish  choruses,  and  tales  of  the  early  days 
and  of  the  great  doings  in  the  homeland.  Then  Big 
Malcolm's  Farquhar,  who  had  long  ago  come  to  re- 
gard himself  in  the  light  of  the  old  itinerant  bards, 
sang,  like  Chibiabos,  to  make  the  wedding  guests  more 
contented.  He  had  but  a  single  English  song  in  his 
repertoire,  one -which  he  rendered  with  much  pride, 
and  only  on  state  occasions.  This  was  a  flowery 
love-lyric,  entitled  "  The  Grave  of  Highland  Mary," 
and  was  Farquhar's  one  tribute  to  the  despised  Burns. 
It  consisted  of  a  half-dozen  lengthy  stanzas,  each 
followed  by  a  still  lengthier  refrain,  and  was  sung  to 
an  ancient  and  erratic  air  that  rose  and  fell  like  the 
wail  of  the  winter  winds  in  the  bare  treetops.  The 
venerable  minstrel  sang  with  much  fervour,  and  only 
in  the  last  stanza  did  the  swelling  notes  subside  in 
any  noticeable  degree.  This  was  not  because  the 
melancholy  words  demanded,  but  because  the  singer 


THE     WEAVER'S     REWARD 

was  rather  out  of  breath.     So  he  sang  with  some 
breathless  hesitation: 

"Yet  the  green  simmer  saw  but  a  few  sunny  mornings 
Till  she,  in  the  bloom  of  her  beauty  and  pride, 
Was  laid  in  her  grave  like  a  bonnie  young  flower 
In  Greenock  kirkyard  on  the  banks  of  the  Clyde." 

But,  when  he  found  himself  launched  once  more 
upon  the  familiar  refrain,  he  rallied  his  powers  and 
sang  out  loudly  and  j  oyf ully : 

"  Then  bring  me  the  lilies  and  bring  me  the  roses, 
And  bring  me  the  daisies  that  grow  in  the  dale, 
And  bring  me  the  dew  of  the  mild  summer  evening, 
And  bring  me  the  breath  of  the  sweet-scented  gale; 
And  bring  me  the  sigh  of  a  fond  lover's  bosom, 
And  bring  me  the  tear  of  a  fond  lover's  e'e, 
And  I'll  pour  them  a'  doon  on  thy  grave,  Highland  Mary, 
For  the  sake  o'  thy  Burns  who  sae  dearly  loved  thee ! " 

It  did  not  seem  the  kind  of  song  exactly  suited  to 
a  hymeneal  feast,  but  everyone  listened  respectfully 
until  the  old  man  had  wavered  through  to  the  end 
and  called,  for  the  last  time,  for  the  lilies,  the  roses 
and  the  daisies;  and  before  he  had  time  to  start  an- 
other Fiddlin'  Archie  struck  up  "  Scots  Wha  Hae," 
and  the  whole  company  joined. 

When  everyone,  even  to  the  last  waiter  in  the  old 


244          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

shanty,  had  been  fed  and  the  tables  were  all  cleared 
away,  Scotty  deserted  Monteith,  and  once  more  took 
up  his  station  on  the  window  sill  where  he  could  catch 
glimpses  of  Isabel's  golden  head  through  the  crowd. 
He  could  see  she  was  the  object  of  many  admiring 
glances ;  the  MacDonald  girls  stood  apart  whispering 
wondering  remarks  concerning  the  beauty  of  her  vel- 
vet gown,  and  even  Betty  Lauchie  seemed  shy  of  her 
old  playmate.  Nevertheless,  when,  upon  spying  him 
in  his  corner,  Isabel  came  again  and  seated  herself 
beside  him,  Scotty  forgot  all  differences  between  them 
and  blossomed  out  into  friendliness  under  the  light  of 
her  eyes.  For  she  had  clear,  honest  eyes  that  looked 
beneath  the  rough  exterior  of  her  country  friends 
and  recognised  the  true,  leal  hearts  beneath.  Yes, 
she  was  the  same  old  Isabel,  Scotty  declared  to  him- 
self, and  something  more,  something  he  hardly  dared 
think  of  yet. 

He  sat  and  chatted  freely  with  her  of  all  that  had 
happened  since  they  had  last  met,  her  life  in  a  la- 
dies' boarding  school  and  his  progress  under  Mon- 
teith's  instruction,  and  he  found  that  with  all  her 
schooling  he  was  far  ahead  of  her  in  book  knowledge. 
Then  there  were  past  experiences  to  recall ;  the  play- 
house they  had  built  beneath  the  Silver  Maple,  the 
mud  pies  they  had  made  down  by  the  edge  of  the 


THE     WEAVER'S     REWARD    245 

swamp,  the  excursions  down  the  Birch  Creek,  and  the 
part  they  had  played  in  poor  Callum's  sad  romance. 

"And  what  are  you  going  to  be,  Scotty?"  she 
asked.  "  Don't  you  remember  it  was  always  either 
an  Indian  or  a  soldier,  a  '  Black  Watcher '  you  used 
to  call  it?  You  ought  to  go  to  college,  you  must  be 
more  than  prepared  for  it  since  you've  learned  so 
much  from  Mr.  Monteith." 

Scotty 's  eyes  glowed.  A  college  course  was  the 
dream  of  his  life,  sleeping  or  waking.  But  he  shook 
his  head. 

"  I'd  like  it,"  he  said,  trying  to  keep  the  gloom  out 
of  his  voice,  "  but  there's  not  much  chance." 

"  Oh,  dear,"  sighed  the  girl,  "  things  seem  to  be 
all  wrong  in  this  world.  There's  Harold  now ;  Uncle 
Walter  fairly  begged  him  to  go  to  college,  but  he 
went  only  one  year." 

"  Where  is  your  cousin  now  ?  " 

"  He's  in  the  English  navy,  and  poor  Uncle  frets 
for  him.  He's  an  officer  too.  I  can't  imagine  Hal 
making  anybody  mind  him.  I  always  used  to  be  the 
'  party  in  power,'  as  Uncle  Walter  used  to  say  when 
Hal  was  home." 

Scotty  laughed.  "  I  expect  he'd  have  a  hard  time 
if  he  didn't  let  you  have  your  own  way,"  he  said 
slyly. 


246         THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

"  Now,  Scotty,  you  know  you  didn't  let  me  have 
my  own  way,  now,  did  you?  But  somehow,  I  think 
I  was  always  in  a  better  humour  at  Kirsty's  here,  I 
didn't  have  anyone  to  bother  me." 

"  I  know  what  I'd  like  most  to  be,"  said  Scotty, 
with  a  sudden  burst  of  feeling. 

"What?" 

"A  Prince!" 

"  A  Prince !  Why,  in  all  the  world?  " 

"  Because  you  are  just  like  all  the  Princesses  I 
have  ever  read  about."  Scotty  was  making  headlong 
progress  in  a  subject  to  which  he  had  never  been 
even  introduced  by  Monteith. 

The  girl  looked  up  at  him  with  an  expression  of 
half -amused  wonder -in  her  eyes. 

"  Why,  Scotty,"  she  declared,  "  you're  as  bad 
as  any  society  man  for  paying  compliments.  But 
you  will  be  something  great  some  day,  I  know.  Mr. 
Monteith  says  so." 

Scotty's  face  lit  up.  "  If  I'm  ever  worth  anything 
I'll  owe  it  all  to  him,"  he  exclaimed  enthusiastically. 
"Isn't  he  fine?" 

"  He's  just  a  dear.  If  it  hadn't  been  for  his  help 
I  should  never  have  been  able  to  come  for  this  visit. 
But  he  told  Aunt  Eleanor  that  we  would  elope  if  I 
wasn't  allowed  to  come.  Isn't  he  funny?  And  just 


THE     WEAVER'S     REWARD    247 

think,  Scotty,  I'm  going  to  stay  a  whole  month,  per- 
haps two ! " 

Scotty  was  speechless. 

"  Now,  I'm  sure  you're  glad !  Yes,  I'm  to  stay 
at  the  manse  for  about  two  weeks,  until  poor  Jimmie 
and  Kirsty  have  a  little  honeymoon  by  themselves, 
and  then  I'm  coming  here.  Auntie  and  Uncle  have 
been  invited  to  spend  a  month  with  friends  in  To- 
ronto, and  I  didn't  want  to  go  because  " — she  hesi- 
tated and  then  laughed  softly — *'  well,  because  I 
have  to  be  so  horribly  proper  all  the  time,  so  I  begged 
to  come  here  instead,  and  as  Mrs.  Cameron  had  in- 
vited me  and  Mr.  Monteith  coaxed  too,  Uncle  Walter 
consented.  And  there's  a  possibility  they  might  not 
be  back  till  Christmas.  Oh,  I  wish  they  wouldn't! 
Am  I  not  wicked?  " 

"  I've  got  a  colt  of  my  own,"  Scotty  burst  forth 
with  apparent  irrelevance,  "  he's  a  fine  driver." 

Isabel  seemed  to  understand. 

"  I  hope  Mrs.  Cameron  will  let  me  go,"  she  said, 
though  there  had  been  no  invitation.  She  glanced 
around  the  room  and  found  that  lady  making  rather 
anxious  motions  in  her  direction. 

The  minister's  wife  had  been  taking  note  of  the 
fact  that  Miss  Herbert  and  one  of  the  young  Mac- 
Donald  men  had  been  renewing  their  acquaintance 


248          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

in  a  rather  headlong  fashion.  Mrs.  Cameron  was  a 
lady  who  had  an  eye  for  the  fitness  of  things,  and, 
being  responsible  for  young  Miss  Herbert,  she  decided 
it  was  high  time  to  take  her  home.  So,  when  the 
girl  looked  up  her  hostess  beckoned  her,  and  an- 
nounced rather  sedately  that  they  must  be  going,  as 
the  minister  had  already  begun  his  round  of  hand- 
shaking. 

"  And  when  will  I  see  you  again  ?  "  Scotty  asked 
forlornly,  as  the  girl  came  downstairs  dressed  for 
her  drive. 

Isabel  was  intent  on  buttoning  her  glove.  "  I — 
I  suppose  you  sometimes  come  to  the  Glen  ?  "  she 
suggested,  without  looking  up. 

Scotty  hastened  to  asseverate  that  he  spent  almost 
all  his  waking  hours  there,  and  that  he  was  a  daily 
visitor  at  the  Manse ;  and  before  Mrs.  Cameron  could 
get  through  bidding  the  neighbours  good-bye,  he  had 
secured  permission  to  come  with  his  black  colt  the 
next  day,  and  with  Mrs.  Cameron's  consent  they 
would  drive  up  to  the  Oa  to  see  how  the  Silver  Maple 
looked  in  its  autumn  dress. 

No  sooner  had  the  minister  and  the  elder  guests 
turned  their  backs,  than  the  young  folk  who  remained 
made  a  joyous  rush  for  the  furniture.  Chairs  and 
benches  were  piled  helter-skelter  in  the  corners  and 


THE     WEAVER'S     REWARD    249 

a  unanimous  demand  arose  for  Fiddlin'  Archie's 
Sandy  to  bestir  his  lazy  bones  and  tune  up ! 

Thus  importuned,  the  musician,  who  had  fearfully 
concealed  his  unholy  instrument  from  the  minister's 
eyes  all  afternoon,  mounted  upon  a  table,  and  after 
much  screwing  up  and  letting  down  and  strumming 
of  notes,  now  high  and  squeaky,  now  low  and  buzz- 
ing, banged  his  bow  down  upon  all  the  strings  at 
once,  and  in  stentorian  tones  gave  forth  the  electrify- 
ing command :  "  Take — yer — partners  !  " 

This  was  the  signal  for  a  general  stampede,  not 
out  upon  the  floor,  but  back  to  the  walls,  leaving 
a  clear  space  down  the  middle  of  the  room;  for 
dancing  before  company  was  a  serious  business  not 
to  be  entered  upon  lightly,  and  it  required  no  small 
courage  to  be  the  first  to  step  out  into  the  range  of 
the  public  eye. 

Balls  were  generally  opened  by  a  couple  of  agile 
young  men  dashing  madly  into  the  middle  of  the 
floor  to  execute  a  clattering  step  dance  opposite  each 
other,  and  under  cover  of  this  sortie  the  whole  army 
would  sweep  simultaneously  into  the  field. 

Dan  Murphy  and  Roarin'  Sandy's  Archie  were  the 
two  who  this  night  first  ventured  into  the  jaws  of 
public  opinion.  Jimmie's  best  man,  as  became  the 
dandy  of  the  countryside,  could  disport  himself  with 


250          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

marvellous  skill  on  the  terpsichorean  floor,  and  Dan 
Murphy  was  at  least  warranted  to  make  plenty  of 
noise.  The  two  young  men  flung  aside  their  coats 
and  went  at  their  task,  heel  and  toe,  with  a  right  good 
will  and  a  tremendous  clatter.  They  pranced  before 
each  other,  stepping  high,  like  thoroughbred  horses, 
they  slapped  the  floor  with  first  one  foot,  then  the 
other,  they  reeled,  they  twirled,  they  shuffled  and 
double-shuffled,  and  pounded  the  floor,  as  though 
they  would  fain  tramp  their  way  through  to  Kirs- 
ty's  new  cellar;  while,  in  his  efforts  to  keep  pace 
with  them,  the  fiddler  nearly  sawed  his  instrument 
asunder. 

But  just  when  they  were  in  the  midst  of  the  most 
intricate  part  of  the  gyrations,  the  spirit  of  the 
dance  seized  the  spectators,  and  the  next  moment 
the  performers  were  engulfed  in  the  whirl  of  the 
oncoming  flood. 

But  Roarin'  Sandy's  Archie  was  not  the  sort  to 
lose  his  identity  in  the  vulgar  throng.  He  was  the 
most  famous  "  caller-off "  in  the  township  of  Oro, 
as  everyone  knew;  and  staggering  out  of  the  mael- 
strom, he  seized  Betty  Lauchie  and  was  soon  in  the 
midst  of  his  double  task,  his  face  set  and  tense,  for 
it  was  no  easy  matter  to  manage  one's  own  feet  and 
at  the  same  time  guide  the  reckless  movements  of  some 


THE     WEAVER'S     REWARD    251 

twenty  heedless  and  bouncing  couples  who  acted  as 
though  a  dance  was  an  affair  of  no  moment  whatever. 

Scotty  did  not  remain  for  the  dance,  but  accom- 
panied his  uncle  home.  He  wanted  to  be  alone  to 
think  over  the  wondferf  ul  events  of  the  day  and  of  the 
joys  of  the  morrow.  There  were  not  many  youths 
who  followed  his  example.  When  the  dance  broke  up 
the  majority  of  them  merely  retired  to  the  edge  of 
the  clearing  to  return  half  an  hour  later  armed  with 
guns,  horns,  tin  pans,  old  saws  from  the  mill,  and 
all  other  implements  warranted  to  produce  an  uproar 
and  annihilate  peace.  With  these  they  proceeded 
to  make  the  night  hideous  by  serenading  the  bridal 
pair  until  the  late  autumn  dawn  chased  them  to  the 
cover  of  the  woods.  This  last  festivity  gave  no  of- 
fence, however,  being  quite  in  accordance  with  the 
custom  of  the  country  and  the  expectations  of  the 
bride  and  groom. 

And  so  Weaver  Jimmie's  wedding  passed  off  just 
as,  through  the  long  years  of  waiting,  he  had 
dreamed  it  would;  and  one  young  man,  who  had 
been  a  guest  at  their  marriage  feast,  entered  that 
day  upon  a  new  life,  as  surely  as  did  the  bride  and 
groom. 


xn 

A   WELL-MEANT   PLOT 

O,  Love  will  build  his  lily  walls, 
And  Love  his  pearly  roof  will  rear,— 
On  cloud  or  land,  or  mist  or  sea — 
Love's  solid  land  is  everywhere ! 

— ISABELLE  VALANCY  CRAWFORD. 

THE   minister   and  his  wife   had  been   on   a 
pastoral  visitation  to  the  Oa,  and,  having 
had  an  early  tea  at  Long  Lauchie's,  were 
driving  homeward. 

The  first  snow  had  fallen  a  few  days  before  and 
had  been  succeeded  by  rain,  which,  freezing  as  it 
fell,  formed  a  hard,  glassy  "  crust "  on  the  top  of 
the  snow.  This  glimmering  surface  reflected  the 
radiant  evening  skies  like  a  polished  mirror.  The 
surrounding  fields  were  a  sea  of  glass  mingled  with 
fire,  and  the  whole  earth  had  become  an  exact  copy 
of  heaven.  Away  ahead  •  stretched  the  road  like 
two  polished,  golden  bars  that  gradually  melted  into 
the  violet  and  mauve  tints  of  the  dusky  pines. 
Through  the  frequent  openings  in  the  purple  forest 
they  could  see,  far  over  hill  and  valley,  a  marvellous 

252 


A     WELL-MEANT     PLOT       253 

vista,  all  enveloped  in  the  wondrous  glow,  the  patches 
of  woodland  looking  like  fairy  islands  floating  in  a 
sea  of  gold.  Overhead,  the  delicately  green  heavens 
shone  through  the  marvellous  tracery  of  the  bare 
branches.  The  horse's  bells  echoed  far  into  the 
woods,  the  only  sound  in  the  winter  stillness,  for 
the  whole  world  seemed  silent  and  wondering  before 
the  beauty  of  the  dying  day. 

The  two  travellers  had  not  spoken  for  some  time; 
the  minister  was  lost  in  contemplation  of  the  glori- 
ous night,  and  the  minister's  wife,  alas,  was  absorbed 
in  a  subject  that  had  been  worrying  her  for  more 
than  a  month,  the  subject  of  Miss  Isabel  Herbert. 

Before  her  visit  at  the  manse  had  terminated,  Mrs. 
Cameron  had  come  to  consider  her  invitation  to  that 
young  lady  as  the  great  mistake  of  her  hitherto 
well-ordered  life.  For  no  sooner  had  the  guest  been 
settled  than  that  young  MacDonald,  who  was  such  a 
friend  of  Mr.  Monteith,  began  to  appear  with  alarm- 
ing frequency.  Now,  though  there  might  have  been 
no  harm  in  Captain  Herbert's  niece  playing  in  the 
backwoods  with  Big  Malcolm's  grandson  when  they 
were  children,  Mrs.  Cameron  mentally  declared  that, 
now  they  were  grown  up,  such  a  thing  as  intimacy 
between  them  was  absolutely  out  of  the  question. 
Miss  Herbert,  she  well  knew,  would  be  horrified  at 


254          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

the  thought,  and  she  set  herself  sternly  to  discourage 
the  young  man's  attentions. 

But  she  found  this  no  easy  task.  One  of  her 
greatest  obstacles  was  the  minister  himself.  The 
good  man  had  long  yearned  to  bring  Monteith  and 
his  friend  into  the  church  and  now  hailed  Scotty's 
visits  as  special  opportunities  sent  him  by  Provi- 
dence. To  his  wife's  dismay  he  warmly  welcomed 
the  young  man,  pressed  him  to  come  again  speedily, 
and  was,  in  his  innocent  goodness  of  heart,  as  much 
a  trial  to  his  wife  as  Isabel  herself. 

And  Isabel  certainly  was  a  handful.  In  Cap- 
tain Herbert's  niece  one  surely  might  have  looked  for 
a  model,  but  the  young  lady  did  not  conduct  herself 
with  the  exact  propriety  her  hostess  expected.  Mrs. 
Cameron  was  quietly  proud  of  the  fact  that  she 
had  been  very  well  brought  up  herself  and  knew 
what  was  due  one's  station  in  life.  But  Miss  Isabel 
was  an  anomaly.  She  belonged  to  one  of  the  best 
families  in  the  County  of  Simcoe  and  had  been  edu- 
cated in  a  select  school  for  young  ladies;  but,  in 
spite  of  these  advantages,  she  would  much  rather  tear 
around  the  house  with  the  dog,  her  hair  flying  in 
the  wind,  than  sit  in  the  parlour  with  her  crochet- 
ing, as  a  young  lady  should.  Moreover,  if  she  could 
be  persuaded  to  settle  for  a  moment  with  a  piece  of 


A    WELL-MEANT     PLOT        255 

sewing,  at  the  sound  of  a  horse's  hoofs  at  the  gate, 
or  the  whirl  of  a  buggy  up  the  driveway,  she  would 
jump  from  her  seat,  scattering  spools,  scissors  and 
thimble  in  every  direction  and  go  dancing  out  to  the 
door,  joyfully  announcing  to  everyone  within  the 
house  that  here  was  "  dear  old  Scotty ! " 

And  yet,  she  was  so  charmingly  deferential,  and, 
in  spite  of  her  high  spirits,  so  anxious  to  please, 
that  her  hostess  had  not  the  heart  to  chide  her.  Her 
whole-hearted  innocence  had  begun  to  disarm  the 
lady's  suspicions  when,  at  the  end  of  a  week,  the 
watchful  eye  noted  signs  of  an  alarming  change  in 
her  troublesome  charge.  Isabel  ceased  entirely  to 
mention  Scotty's  name.  She  did  not  talk,  either,  as 
had  been  her  wont,  of  the  delightful  times  they  had 
had  together  in  their  childhood.  Neither  did  she 
run  to  meet  him  any  more  when  he  came,  but  would 
sit  demurely  at  her  sewing  until  he  entered,  or  even 
fly  upstairs  when  his  horse  appeared  at  the  gate. 

These  were  the  worst  possible  symptoms,  and  Mrs. 
Cameron  appealed  to  the  minister.  But  he,  good 
man,  was  not  at  all  perturbed.  He  saw  nothing  to 
worry  about,  he  declared.  Probably  the  young  lady 
had  discovered  that  she  did  not  care  for  her  old 
comrade  as  much  as  when  they  were  children  and 
was  taking  this  tactful  way  of  showing  him  the  fact 


256         THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

Mrs.  Cameron  was  in  a  state  of  mingled  indignation 
and  despair  over  such  masculine  obtuseness,  and 
vowed  that  if  young  MacDonald  were  not  politely 
requested  to  discontinue  his  attentions  to  Captain 
Herbert's  niece,  she  would  feel  it  her  duty  to  send 
the  aforesaid  niece  home. 

But  the  minister  would  consider  neither  project. 
When  he  had  a  man's  soul  in  view  everything  else 
must  be  made  subordinate.  The  young  man  was 
showing  signs  of  an  awakening  conscience,  he  af- 
firmed; he  had  displayed  wonderful  interest  in  the 
sermons  lately  and  had  asked  some  very  hopeful 
questions  during  their  last  conversation.  And  be- 
side all  this  the  young  lady  was  having  a  good  in- 
fluence on  him,  for  the  lad  had  missed  neither  church 
nor  prayer  meeting  since  she  came.  Indeed,  she 
was  a  fine  lassie,  and  wonderfully  clear  on  the 
essentials ;  though,  of  course,  she  had  a  few  un- 
sound Anglican  doctrines.  But  Kirsty  John's  mother 
had  trained  her  well  in  her  childhood  and  she  was 
not  far  astray.  No,  it  would  be  interfering  with  the 
inscrutable  ways  of  Providence  to  separate  these 
two  now,  they  must  just  let  them  be. 

So  Scotty  and  Isabel  had  things  all  their  own  way ; 
and,  when,  at  last,  Weaver  Jimmie  and  his  wife  came 
and  carried  the  young  lady  off  to  the  Oa,  her  late 


A     WELL-MEANT     PLOT       257 

hostess  declared  she  washed  her  hands  of  the  whole 
affair. 

But  her  guest's  departure  did  not  bring  her  entire 
relief  from  responsibility.  She  could  not  get  away 
from  the  suspicion  that  Miss  Herbert  would  blame 
her,  and  the  rumours  that  came  from  the  Oa  were 
not  calculated  to  allay  her  fears.  Kirsty  John's 
little  lady  from  the  Grange  and  Big  Malcolm's  Scot 
were  always  together,  the  gossips  said,  and  indeed  it 
was  a  great  wonder  the  black  colt  wasn't  driven  to 
death. 

So  to-night  Mrs.  Cameron  was  too  much  worried 
to  notice  the  beauty  of  the  landscape.  Nearly  a 
month  had  slipped  past  since  Isabel  had  left  her; 
the  Herberts  had  returned  to  the  Grange,  and  still 
the  young  lady  showed  no  signs  of  departing.  The 
minister's  wife  looked  out  sharply  as  they  approached 
Weaver  Jimmie's  place.  If  she  could  catch  sight 
of  her  late  guest  she  would  delicately  hint  that  pro- 
priety demanded  that  she  go  home. 

As  they  entered  a  little  evergreen  wood  that  bor- 
dered Weaver  Jimmie's  farm,  there  arose  the  sound 
of  singing  from  the  road  ahead. 

A  turn  around  a  cedar  clump  brought  into  view 
a  solitary  figure  a  few  yards  before  them — the  fig- 
ure of  a  little  old  man,  wearing  a  Scotch  bonnet 


258         THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

and  wrapped  in  a  gay  tartan  plaid.  It  was  a  bent, 
homely  figure,  but  one  containing  a  soul  apparently 
lifted  far  above  earthly  things,  for  he  was  pouring 
forth  a  psalm,  expressive  of  his  joy  in  the  glory  of 
the  evening,  and  with  an  ecstasy  that  might  have  be- 
fitted Orpheus  greeting  the  dawn. 

His  voice  was  high,  loud,  and  cracked;  but  the 
words  he  had  chosen  showed  that  Old  Farquhar  dis- 
cerned the  divine  in  nature,  a  revelation  that  comes 
only  to  the  true  artist: 

"Ye  gates,  lift  up  your  heads  on  high; 
Ye  doors  that  last  for  aye, 
Be  lifted  up  that  so  the  King 
Of  Glory  enter  may. 
But  who  is  He  that  is  the  King 
Of  Glory?     Who  is  this? 
The  Lord  of  Hosts,  and  none  but  He 
The  King  of  Glory  is!" 

The  minister  smiled  tenderly,  there  was  a  mist 
before  his  eyes  when  he  paused  to  shake  the  old  man's 
withered  hand. 

"  Yes,  it  is  a  wonderful  night,  Farquhar,"  he  said. 
"  Truly  the  heavens  declare  the  glory  of  God  and 
the  firmament  showeth  His  handiwork." 

The  old  man  smiled  ecstatically,  and  after  a  halt- 
ing greeting  in  English  to  the  minister's  wife, 
dropped  into  Gaelic,  Mrs,  Cameron  did  not  under- 


A     WELL-MEANT     PLOT       259 

stand  the  language  of  her  husband's  people,  and 
while  the  two  men  conversed  she  looked  about  her. 
Kirsty's  house  was  just  beyond  the  grove,  Isabel 
might  be  near.  A  narrow,  dim  pathway  led  from  the 
road  across  the  woods  to  the  house,  an  alluring  path- 
way bordered  thickly  with  firs,  and  now  all  in  purple 
shadows,  except  when  occasionally  the  golden  light 
sifted  through  the  velvety  branches  and  touched  the 
snow.  Something  was  moving  away  down  the  shad- 
owy aisle.  She  looked  sharply,  it  moved  out  into  a 
lighter  space  and  resolved  itself  into  two  figures 
going  slowly,  so  very  slowly,  down  the  path  in  the 
direction  of  the  Weaver's  house.  There  was  no  mis- 
taking Isabel's  long,  grey  coat,  or  young  MacDon- 
ald's  stalwart  figure.  They  paused  at  the  bars  that 
led  into  the  yard,  they  were  evidently  saying  good- 
night. 

Mrs.  Cameron  did  not  wait  even  to  take  off  her 
bonnet,  upon  her  return  home,  before  sitting  down 
to  write  Miss  Herbert,  of  the  Grange,  a  letter,  a  let- 
ter which  evidently  alarmed  the  recipient,  for  before 
many  days  Miss  Isabel  packed  her  trunk  with  a  very 
sober  face  and  took  her  leave. 

It  was  partly  this  sudden  manner  of  her  departure 
that  made  Monteith  resolve  to  visit  his  friends  at 
Lake  Oro,  He  wanted  to  see  Captain  Herbert  on 


260         THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

important  business — business  which,  he  felt,  had  been 
too  long  delayed,  and  besides  he  was  anxious  to 
discover,  if  possible,  what  the  people  of  the  Grange 
had  done  to  offend  Ralph  on  the  day  he  had  taken 
Isabel  home. 

That  he  had  been  mortally  offended  by  someone 
Monteith  could  not  help  seeing;  but  whether  by 
Isabel  herself,  or  another,  Scotty's  reticence  pre- 
vented his  discovering. 

"  I'm  going  up  to  the  Captain's  to-morrow,"  he 
remarked  casually,  as  he  sat  and  smoked  by  Big 
Malcolm's  fire  one  evening.  He  glanced  at  Scotty, 
and  that  young  man  arose  and  began  to  cram  the 
red-hot  stove  with  wood,  until  his  grandfather 
shouted  to  him  that  he  must  be  gone  daft,  for  was 
he  wanting  to  roast  them  all  out? 

"  Oh,  indeed,"  said  Mrs.  MacDonald,  suspending 
her  knitting  with  a  look  of  pleased  interest.  "  And 
you  will  be  seeing  the  little  lady.  Eh,  it  is  herself 
will  be  the  fine  girl,  not  a  bit  o'  pride,  with  all  her 
beautiful  manners  and  her  learning,  indeed." 

"  She  will  be  jist  the  same  as  when  she  used  to 
run  round  this  house  in  her  bare  feet  with  Scotty," 
declared  Big  Malcolm  enthusiastically.  "  It  is  a 
great  peety  indeed  that  she  will  belong  to  that  Eng- 
lish upstart ! " 


A    WELL-MEANT     PLOT        261 

Scotty  had  settled  down  in  deep  absorption  to 
whittle  a  stick  and  was  apparently  taking  no  notice 
of  the  conversation. 

Monteith  regarded  Big  Malcolm  curiously.  He 
had  been  long  enough  in  the  settlement  to  understand 
that  the  ordinary  pioneer  had  no  love  for  the  more 
privileged  class  that  had  settled  along  the  water- 
fronts. Socially  the  latter  belonged  to  a  different 
sphere  from  the  farmers ;  and  having  often  been  able, 
in  the  early  days,  to  secure  from  the  Government  con- 
cessions not  granted  to  all,  they  were  regarded  by  the 
common  folk  with  some  resentment.  But  the  differ- 
ence between  the  two  classes,  like  all  other  differences, 
was  fast  dying  out,  and  the  schoolmaster  well  knew 
that  Big  Malcolm  had  other  and  deeper  reasons  for 
his  dislike  of  a  man  so  popular  as  Captain  Herbert. 
He  longed  to  know,  before  he  visited  the  Grange,  just 
how  much  his  friend  had  sinned  against  the  old  man. 

"  Oh,  I  suppose  he's  no  worse  than  many  of  his 
kind,"  he  said  tentatively. 

"  Aye,  but  that  is  jist  where  you  will  be  mistaken," 
said  Big  Malcolm,  a  dangerous  light  beginning  to 
leap  up  in  his  eye.  "  If  this  place  would  be  know- 
ing the  kind  of  a  man  he  is,  indeed  it  would  not  be 
Parliament  he  would  be  thinking  about  next  fall, 
but "  He  stopped  suddenly.  "  Och,  hoch,  the 


262         THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

Lord  forgive  me,  and  he  will  be  your  friend,  too,  Mr. 
Monteith,"  he  added  hastily,  with  a  return  of  his 
natural  courtesy.  "  Indeed  I  would  be  forgetting 
myself." 

"  Why  does  your  grandfather  hate  the  Captain 
so?  "  inquired  Monteith,  as  Scotty  walked  with  him 
to  the  gate. 

"  I'll  not  know,"  said  Scotty  morosely.  "  I  think 
they  had  some  quarrel  long  ago,  about  land  or  some- 
thing, when  they  came  here  first." 

"  And  did  he  never  give  any  hint  of  what  the 
trouble  was  ?  " 

"  Not  to  us  boys.  It  was  one  of  those  things  he 
would  always  be  fighting  against,  and  Granny  kept 
him  back,  too.  He  would  be  often  going  to  speak  of 
the  Captain,  when  she  would  stop  him."  Scotty's 
tone  was  gloomy.  This  last  surviving  feud  of  his 
warlike  grandfather  weighed  heavily  upon  his  soul. 
For,  indeed,  matters  had  gone  sadly  wrong  in  Scot- 
ty's world  lately,  and  life  was  proving  a  very  hard 
and  sordid  business. 

Monteith  said  no  more,  but  the  next  morning  he 
set  off  for  his  friend's  house,  determined  to  settle 
once  for  all  those  questions  which  had  been  troubling 
him  ever  since  he  had  learned  that  young  Ralph 
Stanwell  lived.  Something  must  be  done  with  Ralph, 


A     WELL-MEANT     PLOT       263 

and  that  right  away.  He  had  taught  him  as  far  as 
he  could,  and  the  boy  must  not  be  allowed  to  waste 
his  talents  in  the  backwoods. 

The  Grange,  Captain  Herbert's  residence  on  the 
shore  of  Lake  Oro,  was  a  different  building  from  the 
homes  of  the  people  among  whom  the  schoolmaster 
lived;  for  its  owner  belonged  to  the  fortunate  class 
for  whom  life  during  the  early  settlement  of  the 
country  had  been  made  easy  by  money  and  political 
influence. 

The  house,  a  long,  low,  white  stone  building  with 
plenty  of  broad  verandahs,  stood  close  to  the  water's 
edge,  sheltered  by  a  stately  oak  grove.  It  was  sur- 
rounded by  wide  lawns  and  a  garden,  all  now  covered 
with  their  winter  blanket. 

As  Monteith  went  up  the  broad,  well-shovelled 
path,  a  crowd  of  dogs  of  all  sizes  came  tearing  round 
the  house  from  the  rear  with  a  tumult  of  barking. 
He  stooped  to  fondle  a  little  terrier,  and  when  he 
looked  up  the  master  of  the  house  was  coming  down 
the  steps  with  outstretched  hands. 

"  By  Jove,  Archie !  "  he  cried,  his  face  shining  with 
pleasure,  "  I'd  almost  come  to  the  conclusion  that  the 
Fighting  MacDonalds  had  eaten  you  alive!  Why, 
we  haven't  seen  you  since  October,  and  I've  been  blue- 
moulding  for  somebody  to  talk  to.  Well,  I  am  glad 


264         THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

to  see  you.  Get  down,  you  confounded  brute!  Come 
in.  Come  in.  Why,  you  certainly  are  a  stranger. 
And  just  at  the  right  moment,  too!  I'm  all  alone. 
Brian  drove  Eleanor  and  Belle  to  Barbay  this  morn- 
ing. Get  out,  you  infernal  curs!  Those  dogs  all 
ought  to  be  shot ! " 

And  so,  talking  loud  and  fast,  as  was  his  manner, 
the  hearty  Captain  led  the  way  into  the  house.  A 
small  room  at  the  left  of  the  hall,  with  two  windows 
looking  out  upon  the  ice-bound  lake,  constituted  the 
Captain's  private  den.  A  bright  wood  fire  blazed 
in  the  open  grate.  The  host  drew  up  a  couple  of 
arm-chairs  before  it. 

"  So  you've  decided  to  immure  yourself  in  the  back- 
woods for  another  year,  I  hear,"  he  said,  when  his 
guest  was  comfortably  seated  and  supplied  with  a 
cigar.  "  Come,  Archie,  this  will  never  do.  Two 
years  was  the  limit  you  set  when  you  took  the  school, 
and  there's  no  more  the  matter  with  you  than  there  is 
with  me.  You're  actually  getting  fat,  man !  " 

"  Why,  I  do  believe  I  am,"  said  the  other  apolo- 
getically. "  I  shall  probably  grow  corpulent  and 
lazy,  and  settle  down  in  Glenoro  to  a  peaceful  old 


"  Not  a  bit  of  you !     You  look  like  a  new  man, 
and  you  ought  to  get  back  to  your  law  books." 


A     WELL-MEANT     PLOT       265 

Monteith  drew  his  hand  over  his  grey  hair  with  a 
meaning  smile.  "  It  seems  rather  foolish  at  my  age, 
but  I  believe  I  shall;  the  Oro  air  has  really  made  a 
new  man  of  me,  as  you  say.  I  believe  I  should  have 
gone  long  ago  if  I  hadn't  been  interested  in  a  certain 
young  person  there." 

"  A  young  person !  Thunder  and  lightning, 
Archie,  don't  tell  me  you've  gone  and  fallen  in 
love!" 

Monteith  laughed.  "  Upon  my  word  I  believe  I 
have,"  he  asserted,  "  but  don't  look  so  aghast,  the 
obj  ect  of  my  devotion  is  six  feet  high,  and  is  cultivat- 
ing a  moustache." 

"  Oh,  that  young  MacDonald  chum  of  yours.  You 
gave  me  quite  a  shock."  The  guest  noticed  that  his 
friend's  face  changed  at  the  mention  of  Scotty; 
there  was  a  moment's  rather  awkward  silence. 

"  So  the  ladies  are  away,"  said  Monteith  at  last. 
"  I  am  unfortunate." 

Captain  Herbert  burst  into  a  hearty  laugh. 
"  Why,  bless  my  soul,  you've  had  the  escape  of  your 
life!  Eleanor  has  it  in  for  you,  for  shifting  your 
responsibility  and  sending  little  Bluebell  home  with 
your  young  MacDonald;  an  uncommonly  handsome 
young  beggar  he  is  too,  with  the  airs  of  a  Highland 
chieftain,  quite  the  kind  calculated  to  be  dangerous, 


266          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

Eleanor  thinks.  I'm  afraid  she  wasn't  as  cordial  to 
the  boy  as  she  might  have  been,  and  probably  lost  me 
a  couple  of  good  MacDonald  votes." 

Monteith  looked  enlightened.  "  Why,  I  must 
apologise,"  he  said,  "  but  I  did  not  dream  I  was 
transgressing.  Miss  Herbert  surely  knows  that  they 
have  been  like  brother  and  sister  since  their  baby 
days?" 

"  Oh,  that's  just  the  trouble.  Eleanor's  scared 
they're  not  going  to  remain  like  brother  and  sister. 
She  and  your  minister's  wife  down  there  have  got  it 
into  their  busy  heads  that  the  little  monkey's  inclined 
to  think  too  much  about  this  old  chum  of  hers.  Blue- 
bell's the  right  sort,  I  assure  you,  Archie,  never  for- 
gets an  old  friend.  Harold's  just  the  same.  Every 
time  he  writes  he  sends  his  love  to  every  old  codger 
that  chopped  down  a  tree  on  this  place.  It's  a  fine 
quality.  It's  Irish.  We  get  it  from  my  mother's 
side,  though  I'm  more  English  than  Irish  myself, 
praise  the  Lord.  Well,  it  seems  this  loyalty  is  out  of 
place  in  this  case,  and  Eleanor  thinks  the  less  Belle 
sees  of  this  young  man  the  better.  All  perfect  bosh 
and  unthinkable  nonsense,  you  know;  but  you  can 
never  account  for  the  mental  workings  of  some  peo- 
ple. A  woman's  mind  picks  up  an  idea,  particularly 
if  it  concerns  matrimony  in  the  remotest  degree,  as 


A     WELL-MEANT     PLOT        267 

a  hen  does  a  piece  of  bread,  and  runs  squawking  all 
round  this  earthly  barnyard  advertising  the  matter 
until  she  convinces  herself  and  all  the  rest  of  the 
human  fowl  that  she's  got  a  whole  baking  in  her  bill. 
Eleanor  has  snatched  up  some  such  notion  about 
Isabel  and  this  young  MacDonald,  and  the  youngster 
hardly  out  of  short  dresses  yet!  But  there  it  is. 
She'll  never  let  go.  All  rubbish !  " 

He  burst  into  a  hearty  laugh,  and  poked  the  fire 
until  it  crackled  and  roared.  "  Now,  Archie,  what 
sort  of  figure  do  you  think  I  shall  cut  running  for 
Parliament  next  fall?  Think  the  Oa  '11  run  me  off 
the  face  of  the  earth?  " 

"  Just  one  moment,  Captain,  before  you  leave  this 
subject,  and  we'll  talk  politics  all  day  afterwards. 
Far  be  it  from  me  to  even  glance  into  the  dark  mys- 
teries of  matchmaking,  but  I'd  like  to  know  why  Miss 
Herbert  should  object  so  strongly  to  my  young 
friend  on  so  short  an  acquaintance?  " 

Captain  Herbert  looked  surprised.  He  drew  him- 
self up  with  a  slight  access  of  dignity.  "  Oh,  come 
now,  Monteith ! "  he  exclaimed,  "  you  are  surely 
worldly  wise  enough  to  understand  that,  though  this 
young  Scotty  may  be  the  most  exemplary  inhabitant 
of  that  excellent  section  where  you  teach,  he  would 
scarcely  be  a  match  for  my  niece." 


268         THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

"  I  understand  perfectly.  And  if  Ralph  were  one 
of  the  ordinary  young  men  of  the  place  I  should  most 
heartily  agree  with  you.  But  you  don't  know  him. 
He  is  an  exceptionally  fine  fellow;  he  has  had  as 
much  education  as  I  have  been  able  to  guide  him  to 
since  I  came  here,  and  indeed  he  is  a  thorough  gentle- 
man at  heart." 

Captain  Herbert  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  I 
suppose  that's  all  true,  but  what  difference  does  that 
make?  You  don't  want  me  to  offer  him  my  niece, 
I  hope." 

Monteith  paid  no  attention  to  such  frivolity.  He 
turned  squarely  upon  his  host. 

"  Then  I  suppose  you  know  he's  the  equal  in 
birth  to  anyone  in  this  part  of  the  country.  You 
know,  of  course,  that  his  name  is  not  really  Mac- 
Donald?  " 

Captain  Herbert  seized  the  poker  and  attacked  the 
fire  again.  He  seemed  waiting  for  Monteith  to  pro- 
ceed, but  as  he  did  not,  he  answered  rather  shortly, 
"  So  I  believe." 

There  was  a  long  silence.  The  host  sat  back 
again,  swung  one  foot  over  the  other  impatiently, 
and  at  last  turned  upon  his  silent  companion. 

"  Go  on !  "  he  cried.  "  Out  with  it !  I  know  what 
you  want  to  say !  " 


A    WELL-MEANT     PLOT       269 

Monteith  slowly  turned  his  eyes  from  the  fire  and 
looked  into  his  host's  face. 

"  I  don't  want  to  say  anything  disagreeable,  Cap- 
tain," he  said  courteously. 

Captain  Herbert  arose  and  walked  to  the  window. 

"  I  knew  this  would  come  some  day,  when  I  saw  you 
were  getting  so  infernally  chummy  with  all  the  Mac- 
Donald  clan.  That  dear  friend  of  mine,  old  Fire- 
brand Malcolm,  has  been  telling  you  tales,  I  see." 

"  On  the  contrary,  he  has  scarcely  ever  mentioned 
your  name  to  me.  Big  Malcolm  is  not  that  sort," 
said  Monteith,  with  some  dignity.  "  But  it  was  im- 
possible for  me  not  to  remember  Ralph  Stanwell, 
Senior ;  it  all  came  to  me  the  moment  the  boy  told  me 
his  name." 

There  was  a  moment  of  intense  silence,  and  at  last 
the  man  turned  from  the  window. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  coming  to  the  fireside,  "  why  don't 
you  speak?  What  have  you  got  to  say  about  it?  " 
His  manner  was  half-defiant. 

"  I  don't  know  that  you'll  think  it's  my  place  to 
say  anything,  Captain.  But — well,  since  you  ask  my 
opinion,  I  must  confess  that,  though  I  am  not  in 
possession  of  all  the  facts,  the  thing  does  not  look 
exactly — straight." 

Captain  Herbert  glared  at  him.     "  You  are  the 


270         THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

only  man  in  Ontario  who  would  dare  to  say  that  to 
me,  Archibald  Monteith !  "  he  cried. 

Monteith  arose,  smiling.  "  Well,  Captain,  be 
thankful  you  have  at  least  one  honest  friend  in 
Ontario.  And,"  he  added,  with  a  sudden  change  of 
tone,  "  look  here,  I  haven't  come  to  you  about  this  in 
anger.  I  am  Ralph's  friend,  but  I  am  yours,  too, 
and  have  many  debts  of  kindness  owing  you.  But, 
honestly  now,  is  it  or  is  it  not  true  that  you  jumped 
a  claim  and  appropriated  the  boy's  property,  perhaps 
unwittingly  ?  " 

"  It  was  unwittingly,  Archie,"  burst  out  the  other, 
with  a  look  of  relief.  "  I  know  the  affair  must  look 
nasty  to  you;  but,  as  sure  as  I  stand  here,  I  didn't 
know  the  child  was  alive  until  he  was  nearly  seven 
years  old." 

"  But  the  grandfather?  Did  he  never  interfere 
in  the  child's  interests  ?  " 

"  That  old  fire-eater !  If  he  hadn't  been  such  a 
maniac,  I  should  never  have  made  the  mistake  I  did. 
I  tell  you  the  whole  thing  was  misrepresented  to  me. 
Stanwell  and  his  wife  and,  as  I  was  told,  his  child 
too,  died  just  before  I  landed  here.  This  property 
of  his  was  partially  cleared,  but  was  represented  to 
me  as  totally  unclaimed.  You  know  that  as  well  as 
I  do.  Don't  you  remember  the  day  I  left  Toronto 


A     WELL-MEANT     PLOT        271 

to  come  up  here?  Well,  after  I  had  spent  hundreds 
of  dollars  on  the  place  that  old  Lord  of  the  Isles  got 
wind  of  it  away  back  there  in  the  bush,  and  came 
down  on  me  like  a  deposed  king.  He  talked  so  loud 
and  so  fast,  and  half  of  it  in  Gaelic,  that  I  paid  no 
attention  to  him,  and  at  last  ordered  him  off  the 
place.  My  brother  Harold  had  been  instrumental 
in  getting  the  place  for  me,  so  I  wrote  him  and  asked 
if  it  was  possible  that  anyone  connected  with  Captain 
Stanwell  could  have  any  claim  on  my  property.  He 
wrote  back  to  say  that  Stanwell  and  everyone  be- 
longing to  him  were  dead,  but  that  he  would  come  up 
soon  and  see  about  it.  Well,  you  know  he  died  the 
next  week,  and  little  Bluebell  was  left  to  me.  Those 
were  hard  times  for  me,  Archie,  as  you  know.  Maud 
was  taken  next,  and  I  was  left  alone  with  two  help- 
less children  on  my  hands  and  my  finances  in  the  very 
deuce  of  a  state.  I  forgot  all  about  everything  but 
the  troubles  that  had  come  upon  me.  Then  I  sent 
for  Eleanor  to  look  after  my  family,  and  after  she 
came  I  had  other  reasons  you  know  nothing  about  for 
keeping  silent  concerning  Captain  Stanwell.  And  so 
the  years  slipped  away,  and  there  it  is,  you  see.  If 
I  had  given  up  the  property  when  I  settled  here  first 
I  should  have  been  almost  destitute.  Now,  I  ask 
you,  is  there  any  living  man  could  blame  me?  " 


THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

Monteith  answered  warily.  "  There  are  not  many 
men  who  would  have  acted  differently  in  your  place,  I 
fear,  only — it's  rather  hard  on  the  boy." 

"  Pshaw,  I  don't  believe  the  boy's  claim  was  worth 
a  brass  farthing.  If  it  was,  why  couldn't  his  old 
grandfather  have  gone  to  law  about  it?  " 

Monteith  shook  his  head.  "  You  don't  know  those 
Highlanders;  they  would  sooner  be  bereft  of  every 
stick  or  stone  they  possess  than  enter  a  law  court. 
Besides,  you  can't  deny,  Captain,  that  even  had  Big 
Malcolm  wished  to  take  such  measures,  he  well  knew 
that  in  those  days  a  man  of  his  class  hadn't  much 
chance  against  one  of  yours." 

Captain  Herbert  tramped  up  and  down  the  little 
room.  Monteith  sat  silent,  waiting.  He  was  able  to 
guess  with  some  degree  of  accuracy  the  workings  of 
his  friend's  mind.  Captain  Herbert  was  a  man  who 
believed  in  letting  circumstances  take  care  of  them- 
selves, particularly  if  they  were  of  the  disagreeable 
variety ;  but  he  would  willingly  do  no  man  a  wrong ; 
and  Monteith  well  knew  that  his  warm  heart  was  a 
prey  to  regret,  and  he  was  therefore  full  of  hope  for 
Ralph.  But  the  Captain  had  a  stormy  journey  to 
traverse  before  arriving  at  any  conclusion. 

"  If  the  matter  were  taken  into  a  law  court  now, 
no  fool  would  say  for  a  moment  that  I  wasn't  the 


A     WELL-MEANT     PLOT        273 

owner  of  this  place  after  all  these  years.  It  was  a 
howling  wilderness  when  I  came  here." 

"  But  a  court  might  say  you  were  under  some 
obligation  to  that  boy,  Captain." 

"  Nonsense !  Do  you  want  me  to  present  him  with 
a  deed  of  all  my  property  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all,  but  I  want  you  to  act  fairly  by  him, 
as  I  am  sure  you  will." 

The  steady  tramp  ceased  at  last,  and  as  Monteith 
had  expected  his  host  came  and  stood  before  the  fire. 

"  It's  a  mean  business,  the  whole  thing,  I  know, 
Archie;  and  I've  hated  the  thought  of  it  all  these 
years.  But  what  could  I  do?  It  was  too  late  to 
mend  matters  when  I  found  my  mistake." 

"  It's  never  too  late  to  mend,"  quoted  the  imper- 
turbable guest.  "  And  you're  comfortably  well  off 
now,  Captain,  with  that  last  legacy." 

Captain  Herbert  evidently  did  not  hear  him. 
"  I'm  sorry  about  that  boy,"  he  said,  staring  into 
the  grate  with  brows  knit,  "  I'm  truly  sorry." 

Monteith  felt  that  now  was  his  opportunity,  and 
he  put  Scotty's  case  forward  strongly.  He  was  care- 
ful not  to  press  the  boy's  legal  claims,  but  made 
much  of  the  moral  obligation.  Here  was  a  young 
man  with  marked  ability  and  no  worldly  resources, 
his  high  ambitions  fettered  by  poverty.  He  had 


THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

already  spent  two  winters  in  the  lumber  camps;  he 
was  getting  to  be  a  famous  river  pilot,  and,  as  mat- 
ters stood,  there  seemed  nothing  better  ahead  of  him. 
Ralph  was  a  youth  who  would  probably  make  his  way 
in  the  world  somehow,  but  just  now  he  needed  a  help- 
ing hand.  A  little  assistance  at  present  would  make 
his  fortune,  and  who  so  fitted  to  give  that  assistance 
as  Captain  Herbert? 

The  appeal  was  received  in  silence.  Captain  Her- 
bert sat,  his  brows  drawn  together,  his  eyes  fixed  upon 
the  fire.  "  There's  another  reason,  stronger  than  any 
you  suspect  for  my  sister's  antipathy  for  the  young 
man,"  he  said  suddenly  without  looking  up. 

Monteith's  eyebrows  rose. 

"  It  is  a  very  unpleasant  subject  to  refer  to,  but  it 
seems  necessary  that  you  should  know.  When  Cap- 
tain Stanwell  came  to  this  country  he  was  engaged  to 
marry  my  sister.  He  came  out  here,  presumably  to 
make  a  home  for  her.  A  pretty  face  among  the 
emigrants  took  his  fancy,  and  he  married  shortly 
after  he  landed.  So  you  may  imagine  I  am  not 
likely  to  have  any  warm  feeling  for  the  rascal's  son." 

Monteith  sat  staring.  He  had  come  to  represent 
Scotty's  righteous  cause,  to  uphold  him  as  the 
wronged,  and  here  were  the  tables  turned  upon  him. 

"  All  these  years,  Eleanor  never  dreamed  that  the 


A     WELL-MEANT     PLOT        275 

child  lived.  Indeed,  I  am  not  sure  that  she  knew 
Stanwell  had  a  child,  and  of  course  she  never  guessed 
who  little  Bluebell's  Scotty  was.  And  I  naturally 
didn't  see  any  reason  for  enlightening  her.  She 
nearly  discovered  it  once,  the  first  time  I  saw  the  boy. 
But  when  he  brought  Bluebell  here  she  saw  the  re- 
semblance at  once — he's  the  image  of  his  father — she 
asked  him  his  name,  and  it  all  came  out,  and  you  can 
imagine  the  scene.  She  sent  him  off,  and  ordered  the 
youngster  never  to  speak  to  him  again,  and  the 
poor  little  monkey's  been  fairly  sick  over  it.  There 
couldn't  possibly  be  anything  between  them,  but  she 
liked  him ;  they  were  chums.  Now  don't  you  see  how 
difficult  it  is  for  me  to  show  him  any  kindness,  even 
if  I  wanted  to  ?  And  I'm  sure  I  don't  owe  his  scoun- 
drel father  much  consideration,  anyway." 

The  ambassador  had  nothing  to  say.  Scotty's 
chances  for  redress  were  very  poor.  He  looked  into 
the  fire  in  deep  disappointment.  Monteith  was  not  a 
religious  man,  but  at  that  moment  he  remembered 
vaguely  a  passage  from  the  Bible  about  the  fathers 
having  eaten  sour  grapes  and  the  children's  teeth  be- 
ing set  on  edge. 

But  for  all  his  talk,  Captain  Herbert  had  not  set- 
tled the  affair  to  his  own  satisfaction.  He  was  blus- 
tering up  and  down  the  room  again,  trying  to  work 


276          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

off  his  indignation  against  fate.  He  paused  once 
more  in  front  of  his  visitor. 

"  I  tell  you  what,  Archie,"  he  cried  for  the  fifth 
time,  "  I  hate  the  whole  business.  It's  been  grinding 
at  me  for  nearly  fifteen  years.  I've  got  a  son  of  my 
own  about  that  boy's  age.  His  mother  died  when 
he  was  a  baby,  and  he's  everything  to  me ;  and  when 
I  think  that  if  I  had  been  taken  too,  he  might  have 

fared  badly, — well — it's Look  here,  what  kind 

of  ability  has  young  Stanwell?  " 

Monteith  gasped.  "  He's  as  bright  as  a  steel 
trap ;  all  brains." 

"Well,"— the  Captain  was  thoughtful— "  what 
does  he  want  ?  " 

"  He  wants  a  chance  to  earn  some  money  in  a  hurry 
so  that  he  can  go  to  college.  He's  determined  to  get 
an  education,  but  the  money  isn't  forthcoming." 

"  Well,  if  I  should  see  him  through " 

Monteith  shook  his  head  smilingly.  "  He  wouldn't 
accept  it.  You  must  remember,  the  boy  has  the  real 
old  Highland  pride.  No,  give  him  some  position 
where  he  can  earn  some  money,  or  think  he  is  earning 
it,  in  a  short  time." 

"  You're  a  Jew  at  a  bargain,  Archie  Monteith, 
and  a  Scotch  Jew,  at  that,  which  is  the  worst  kind. 
What  sort  of  aptitude  would  he  have  for  figures  ?  " 


A    WELL-MEANT     PLOT        277 

"  He  seems  to  display  a  special  aptitude  for  almost 
anything  he  undertakes." 

"  Well, — I  might, — pshaw,  why  not  ?  Eleanor 
needn't  know.  There's  Raye  &  Hemming.  They 
want  a  young  man  in  their  office.  It  means  a  respon- 
sible position,  though,  Archie,  with  good  pay,  and  I'm 
depending  entirely  upon  your  recommendation.  He 
ought  to  know  something  about  lumber  surely." 

"Raye  &  Hemming!"  Monteith  started.  "I'd 
be  delighted  to  see  the  boy  get  such  a  good  oppor- 
tunity, but  the  name  of  that  particular  lumber  com- 
pany isn't  absolutely  synonymous  with  fair-dealing. 
Remember,  Ralph's  been  very  strictly  brought  up, 
Captain." 

"  Pshaw,  they're  supposed  to  muddle  a  little  with 
politics,  but  what's  the  difference?  If  your  paragon 
is  so  squeamish  you'd  better  keep  him  in  the  bush.  I 
can't  think  of  anything  else  I  could  do  for  him  half 
so  good.  Those  fellows  are  sharp,  I'll  admit,  but 
they  know  how  to  make  money." 

Monteith  considered  for  a  moment,  then  stood  up 
and  held  out  his  hand.  "  I  knew  you  would  do  the 
square  thing,  Captain,"  he  said  heartily. 

"  Well,  to  be  honest,  I  confess  I'm  not  entirely  dis- 
interested. That  young  Carruthers  the  Grits  are 
bringing  out  will  be  sure  to  rake  up  this  story  if 


278         THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

I  run  next  fall;  and  those  MacDonalds  are  double- 
dyed  Grits  already.  I  don't  want  to  give  them  a 
handle  against  me.  Young  Stanwell  will  make  a  bet- 
ter friend  than  an  enemy.  I  can  clear  my  tender  con- 
science and  get  him  out  of  the  road,  and  save  myself 
a  great  deal  of  future  trouble  all  in  one  stroke.  So 
there  you  are,  you  see." 

Monteith  laughed.  There  was  something  irresist- 
ible about  the  candour  of  the  man. 

"  He  certainly  is  an  Irishman  all  through,"  was 
the  Scotchman's  mental  comment. 

"  And  by  the  way,  Archie,  does  he  know  anything 
about  this?" 

"  Not  a  word.  Big  Malcolm  never  told  anybody, 
I  fancy.  That's  a  gentleman  for  you !  " 

Captain  Herbert  looked  slightly  embarrassed. 

"  I  suppose  you'd  better  tell  the  boy — every- 
thing? " 

"  I  think  it  would  be  better.  He's  very  fair- 
minded,  and,  besides,"  Monteith  smiled,  "  he  is  not 
likely  to  feel  any  resentment  against  Miss  Isabel's 
uncle." 

"  That  brings  up  a  very  important  item  in  our 
bargain,"  said  the  Captain  f rowningly,  "  and  one 
upon  which  everything  depends." 

"Yes?" 


A     WELL-MEANT     PLOT       279 

"  He'll  have  to  understand  that  there's  to  be  noth- 
ing between  him  and  Bluebell.  It  seems  absurd  to 
talk  about  such  a  thing  already,  but  Eleanor  seems 
certain  of  danger.  So  you'll  have  to  put  the  matter 
plainly  to  the  young  man,  and  explain  that  if  he's  so 
much  as  caught  speaking  to  her,  his  position  is  gone 
as  quick  as  a  gunshot.  I  owe  that  much  to  my  sister. 
She  couldn't  stand  the  sight  of  him,  and  neither  of 
the  youngsters  is  old  enough  to  be  hurt." 

Monteith  looked  dubious,  but  he  did  not  hesitate 
to  comply.  Ralph  would  soon  forget  when  he  got 
away  into  the  world,  he  told  himself,  and  Miss  Her- 
bert would  probably  make  the  keeping  of  the  bar- 
gain very  easy  for  him. 

"  And  now,"  cried  Captain  Herbert,  rising  with  an 
expression  of  relief,  "  that's  over.  It's  been  an 
abominable  tangle  all  through,  a  perfect  mess,  with 
everyone  in  the  family  mixed  up  in  it,  and  it's  a  re- 
lief to  have  it  settled.  Come  along,  let's  go  out  and 
breathe  some  fresh  air  and  look  at  the  dogs ! " 


XIII 
THE     VOICE     IN     THE     WILDERNESS 

Out  of  the  strife  of  conflict, 
Out  of  the  nightmare  wild, 
Thou  bringest  me,  spent  and  broken, 
Like  the  life  of  a  little  child. 

Like  the  spume  of  a  far-spent  wave, 
Or  a  wreck  cast  up  from  the  sea, 
Out  of  the  pride  of  being, 
My  soul  returns  to  Thee. 

— WILLIAM  WILFHED  CAMBPELL. 

RAYE    &    HEMMING,    managers    of    that 
branch  of  the  Great  Lake  Lumber  Com- 
pany that  had  its  headquarters  in  the  town 
of  Barbay,  soon  learned  that  their  new  clerk  was  a 
young  man  of  no  mean  parts.     For  beside  an  un- 
usual ability,  young  Stanwell  brought  to  his  work 
that  tenacity  of  purpose  and  tendency  to  unremitting 
toil  which  is  the  product  of  the  farm. 

Scotty  found  himself  treated  with  every  considera- 
tion by  his  chiefs.  Captain  Herbert's  protege  was 
evidently  a  person  of  some  importance,  and  he  guessed 
that  his  generous  salary  was  largely  due  to  his 

280 


VOICE     IN     WILDERNESS 

patron's  influence.  Though  his  feelings  towards  his 
benefactor  were  naturally  somewhat  mixed,  since 
bearing  how  he  had  defrauded  him  of  his  birth- 
right, nevertheless  Scotty  could  find  small  room  in 
his  heart  for  any  ill-will  against  Isabel's  uncle.  He 
had  ill-used  him,  no  doubt,  but  he  was  making  repara- 
tion, and  what  more  could  any  man  do?  And,  in- 
deed, Scotty's  affairs  were  turning  out  so  much  bet- 
ter than  his  fondest  hopes  had  pictured,  that  he  could 
not  wish  the  past  different.  A  few  years  with  Raye 
&  Hemming,  he  felt  assured,  would  open  the  golden 
gates  of  college  to  him,  and  there  he  would  vindicate 
himself. 

For  the  young  man  was  in  happy  ignorance  of  the 
fact  that  his  present  good  fortune  depended  upon  his 
separation  from  Isabel.  Monteith  had  not  seen  fit 
to  apprise  him  of  that  item  in  Captain  Herbert's  bar- 
gain. The  shrewd  schoolmaster  had  a  suspicion  that 
the  foolish  young  man  might  throw  up  his  hopeful 
prospects  in  a  fit  of  romantic  gallantry,  and  deter- 
mined to  run  no  risks  until  all  danger  was  past. 

So  the  boy  did  not  know  how  hopeless  was  the  love 
he  and  his  golden-haired  sweetheart  had  pledged  be- 
neath the  pines  at  Kirsty's  gate.  Miss  Herbert 
strongly  objected' to  him,  he  knew,  but  she  could  be 
overcome  in  time.  They  must  be  separated  for  a 


282          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

time,  but  Captain  Herbert  was  his  friend,  surely,  and 
Isabel — well,  he  was  certain  of  her,  anyway — Isabel 
would  never  forget,  for  had  she  not  promised  that 
she  would  think  of  him  always,  no  matter  how  far 
apart  they  might  be,  and  how  could  anyone  doubt 
Isabel? 

His  life  in  the  town  was  beneficial  in  many  ways. 
Socially  he  learned  as  much  as  he  did  in  the  office  of 
Raye  &  Hemming,  knowledge  which  he  knew  would 
stand  him  in  good  stead  when  that  longed-for  day 
would  come  when  he  would  be  permitted  to  visit  Isabel 
in  her  home.  He  was  received  in  Barbay  society  in 
spite  of  his  rural  training,  for  was  he  not  Captain 
Herbert's  friend,  and  the  only  son  of  that  dashing 
Captain  Stanwell  whom  the  best  people  knew  in  the 
early  days.  And  was  there  not  the  chance  that  he 
might  be  a  young  man  of  property  some  day? 

And  so,  though  Isabel  and  home  were  far  away, 
Scotty  worked  away  blithely,  determined  to  show  Cap- 
tain Herbert  that  he  was  worthy  of  the  trust  reposed 
in  him,  and  resolved  to  win  in  spite  of  all  odds. 

But  as  he  grew  more  accustomed  to  the  business, 
and  more  intimate  with  the  inner  workings  of  Raye 
&  Hemming's  office,  there  slowly  spread  over  his 
rosy  hopes  a  shadow  of  misgiving.  He  found  it  im- 
possible to  shut  his  eyes  to  the  fact  that  the  men 


VOICE     IN     WILDERNESS     283 

with  whom  he  was  employed,  and  from  whom  he  was 
to  learn,  were  adepts  at  many  of  the  small,  sharp 
practices  which  he  had  been  taught  to  despise. 
Scotty  had  been  brought  up  with  no  hazy  ideas  of 
right  and  wrong.  Though  Big  Malcolm  had  left  the 
boy's  training  almost  entirely  to  his  wife,  still,  as 
much  by  example  as  precept,  he  had  instilled  into  his 
grandson's  very  soul  a  proud  contempt  for  anything 
resembling  a  lie.  Any  form  of  deceit,  sharp  dealing 
or  trickery  came  under  one  despised  category,  and 
within  Scotty's  earliest  memory  had  been  looked  upon 
by  all  his  household  with  supreme  scorn. 

And  now  in  his  new  environment  he  found  himself 
a  daily  witness  of  a  dozen  little  petty  transactions 
such  as  he  had  been  taught  to  loathe.  Sometimes, 
when  he  was  compelled  to  assist  in  the  sharp  tricks 
of  his  employers  and  received  afterwards  their  laugh- 
ing congratulations  upon  his  success,  he  turned  away 
from  them  with  a  feeling  of  nausea.  He  tried  to 
picture  his  grandfather  in  similar  circumstances,  but 
could  not.  Well  he  knew  Big  Malcolm  would  not 
stoop  from  his  lofty  height  to  touch  the  business  of 
Raye  &  Hemming  with  his  finger-tips. 

And  yet  they  were  not  absolutely  dishonest;  per- 
haps this  was  only  what  the  world  considered  being 
"  sharp  "  in  business,  he  argued.  But  he  could  not 


THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

quite  convince  himself,  and  in  his  perplexity  hinted 
at  his  troubles  in  a  letter  to  Monteith. 

The  schoolmaster's  answer  did  not  succeed  in  put- 
ting his  mind  at  rest.  "  I  know  those  fellows  have 
the  name  of  doing  some  slippery  things,"  he  wrote, 
"  and  personally  I  wish  you  had  hit  upon  men  who 
had  a  better  reputation,  but  there's  no  denying  they 
know  how  to  make  money,  and  the  shareholders  are 
naturally  rather  fond  of  them.  You  must  just  learn 
to  shut  your  eyes  to  little  things  that  don't  exactly 
suit  you  and  go  ahead.  Your  chance  in  life  depends 
upon  your  ability  to  please  those  fellows.  Don't  lose 
it,  my  boy,  it  means  everything." 

Scotty  was  rather  bewildered  by  this  advice,  com- 
ing from  one  whom  he  had  long  regarded  as  an  in- 
fallible authority.  In  his  backwoods  simplicity  he 
felt  himself  at  sea.  Was  there,  then,  a  different  code 
of  honour  in  the  country  from  that  which  was  adhered 
to  in  the  town? 

Not  since  the  days  when  Granny  had  had  to  chide 
him  for  childish  naughtiness  had  he  been  greatly 
troubled  over  the  vexed  question  of  right  and  wrong. 
Looking  back  now,  he  could  see  that  he  had  been 
hedged  about  by  what  he  chose  to  call  circumstances. 
First  there  had  been  the  influences  of  that  home  be- 
neath the  Silver  Maple,  and  the  strong,  gentle  control 


VOICE     IN     WILDERNESS     285 

of  his  grandmother.  And  when  his  high  spirits  had 
been  in  danger  of  taking  him  beyond  the  "  border- 
land dim,"  Monteith  had  come,  and  there  had  been 
no  more  trouble.  Monteith's  training  had  been  quite 
different  from  that  which  he  had  received  at  home. 
The  schoolmaster  despised  as  a  fool  anyone  who  did 
not  walk  the  straight  and  narrow  path.  Wrong- 
doing was  idiotic,  he  declared ;  it  didn't  "  pay."  But 
Monteith's  creed  did  not  hold  here.  It  did  pay,  as 
far  as  Scotty  could  see.  And  here  he  was  with  no 
hedging  circumstances  to  keep  him  in  the  right  path, 
standing  at  the  parting  of  the  ways. 

And  yet  he  did  not  for  a  moment  consider  the  possi- 
bility of  drawing  back.  There  was  too  much  at 
stake.  As  Monteith  had  said,  everything  depended 
upon  his  faithfully  filling  his  post.  To  lose  the 
favour  of  Raye  &  Hemming  meant  to  lose  everything 
he  had  set  his  heart  upon,  Captain  Herbert's  friend- 
ship, his  education,  Isabel  herself. 

No,  he  could  not  dream  of  giving  up.  And  so  he 
took  Monteith's  advice  and  went  forward  doggedly. 
But  all  the  enjoyment  in  his  new  work  was  soon  gone, 
his  happy,  sanguine  days  gradually  changed  to  a 
season  of  worry  and  humiliation ;  until  he  sometimes 
longed  with  all  his  soul  to  fling  all  the  unclean  bus- 
iness aside,  take  an  axe  and  go  back  to  the  bush. 


286         THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

He  struggled  on  through  the  winter,  morose  and 
plodding,  until  the  spring  came  with  scented  breezes 
and  the  songs  of  birds  calling  him  to  come  away. 
Barbay  was  situated  picturesquely  on  an  arm  of 
Lake  Simcoe.  From  the  office  window  he  could 
catch  enchanting  glimpses  of  sapphire  lake  and 
emerald  hill,  and  he  was  seized  with  an  intense  long- 
ing to  return  to  his  outdoor  life.  If  he  could  only 
get  back  to  his  old  environment  for  even  a  day,  he 
felt  he  could  readjust  his  ideas  and  see  things  more 
clearly.  The  24th  of  May,  the  birthday  of  the  good 
Queen,  brought  him  the  longed-for  holiday.  The  of- 
fice claimed  him  for  a  few  hours  in  the  morning,  but 
early  in  the  afternoon  he  hired  a  canoe,  and,  supplied 
with  a  gun  and  rod,  a  blanket  and  plenty  of  bread 
and  meat,  he  paddled  away  into  the  blue  expanse. 
He  would  go  on  until  he  came  to  the  forest,  he  de- 
termined, and  there  he  would  camp  for  the  night. 

His  spirits  rose  like  a  freed  bird  as,  with  long, 
steady  strokes,  hour  after  hour,  he  glided  smoothly 
up  the  low,  green  shore.  He  was  some  distance  from 
any  human  habitation  when  the  steady  dip,  dip  of  his 
paddle  echoed  farther  inland  than  usual.  He  paused 
and  peered  into  the  woods.  He  was  on  the  edge  of 
a  forest  whose  tangled  fringe  of  birch  and  elm  hung 
over  the  greening  water.  But  just  behind  this  fringe 


VOICE     IN     WILDERNESS     287 

was  a  little  clearing,  all  smothered  in  riotous  under- 
growth. Scotty  ran  his  canoe  up  on  the  sandy  beach, 
her  bow  sweeping  aside  the  drooping  elm  branches, 
and  leaped  ashore.  He  plunged  into  the  little  tangled 
circle  of  undergrowth,  and  at  the  first  sight  gave  a 
boyish  whoop  of  delight. 

In  the  centre  of  the  space,  facing  the  water,  stood 
an  old  log  shanty,  a  temporary  structure  erected  in 
the  lumbering  days.  It  contained  bunks  filled  with 
straw.  Here  was  the  very  place  to  spend  the  night ; 
it  seemed  waiting  for  him.  He  set  to  work  to  make 
camp  with  the  skill  of  a  lifelong  practice.  A  splen- 
did black  bass  that  responded  hungrily  to  his  bait 
made  a  fine  addition  to  his  larder.  He  soon  had  a 
merry  fire  in  front  of  the  cabin,  sending  a  blue 
column  of  smoke  straight  into  the  treetops,  and  when 
it  burned  down  to  a  bed  of  coals  he  cooked  his  fish. 
Supper  was  soon  over,  the  canoe  stowed  safely  high 
up  on  the  shore,  and  he  had  nothing  to  do  but  enjoy 
the  silence  and  peace  of  the  wild,  lonely  spot.  He 
built  up  his  fire  again,  partly  because  the  May  night 
was  cool  and  partly  to  keep  off  the  mosquitoes,  and 
stretched  himself  full  length  upon  the  ground  before 
it.  It  was  the  first  time  in  months  that  he  had  been 
absolutely  at  peace.  Around  him  was  the  encircling 
forest,  which  bulked  largely  in  his  earliest  memories, 


288          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

and  always  gave  him  the  sensation  of  being  at  home. 
The  sweet  pungent  odour  of  burning  evergreens  filled 
the  air,  mingling  with  the  scents  of  the  forest.  Above 
the  dark  ring  of  wild,  luxuriant  growth  the  sky  shone 
a  clear  transparent  crystal,  with  faint  illusive  sug- 
gestions of  rose  and  orange,  for  out  there  in  the  wide 
world  the  sun  was  setting,  and  Lake  Simcoe  glinted 
between  the  tree  trunks  flushed  and  smiling.  The  lit- 
tle breeze  of  the  afternoon  had  died  away,  and  not  a 
leaf  stirred ;  only  where  the  subsiding  waves  disturbed 
the  shells  and  pebbles  on  the  beach  could  be  heard  a 
soft  whispering  rustle. 

But  as  the  night  fell,  from  the  darkening  forest 
there  arose  the  evening  chorus  of  the  birds.  Each 
tall  pine  tree,  silhouetted  sharply  against  the  crystal 
sky,  was  soon  ringing  with  the  transporting  vespers 
of  the  veery.  Away  back  on  a  hill,  far  above  the 
little  clearing,  a  whip-poor-will  stationed  himself  in  a 
treetop  to  complain  over  and  over  of  the  darkness 
and  loneliness  of  the  world.  Just  at  Scotty's  right 
hand,  from  behind  a  screen  of  scented  basswood,  came 
a  sudden  discordant  sound,  the  rasping  "  meyow " 
of  the  cat-bird ;  a  moment's  silence  followed  and  then 
arose  a  burst  of  delirious,  bubbling  melody,  as  though 
the  naughty  songster,  hidden  within  his  aromatic  cur- 
tains, were  laughing  impudently  at  having  deceived 


VOICE     IN     WILDERNESS     289 

\ 
his  hearers  into  thinking  he  was  only  a  cat.     A  loon 

arose  with  a  splash  from  the  reedy  shore  of  an  island 
opposite  and  sailed  away  through  the  amber  air;  his 
wild,  derisive  laugh  echoed  back  from  the  glimmering 
sunset  bay  where  he  had  joined  his  comrades.  Far 
above,  the  "  scree-ak,  scree-ak  "  of  the  night-hawks 
whirling  in  the  heavens  echoed  away  into  the  green 
depths ;  up  the  long  dark  aisles  came  the  sweet  "  hoo, 
hoo  "  of  the  owl,  and  the  clear  ringing  notes  of  the 
whitethroat  "  calling  across  the  dusk."  The  frogs, 
down  by  the  whispering  water's  edge,  joined  their 
chorus  to  the  night  music ;  and  on  every  side,  keep- 
ing at  a  respectful  distance  from  the  smoke  of  the 
fire,  the  mosquitoes  "  all  in  a  wailful  choir  "  uttered 
their  little,  thin,  doleful  tunes.  And  always,  far  up 
in  the  dark  pinetops,  like  bells  in  a  cathedral  tower, 
rang  out  the  clear,  enchanting,  metallic  notes ;  the 
long  liquid  carol  of  the  veery. 

Scotty  drew  a  great  sigh  of  content ;  he  was  home 
again.  The  magic  spirit  of  the  woods,  with  its  sense 
of  peace  and  freedom,  enfolded  his  very  soul.  Those 
things  of  earth,  the  sordid  meannesses  of  his  every- 
day life,  faded  away ;  they  were  as  far  removed  as 
that  diamond  star  he  was  watching  twinkling  on  the 
sharp  peak  of  a  dark  fir.  He  lay  on  his  back,  his 
hands  clasped  beneath  his  head,  and  gazed  up  into 


290          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

the  tender  blue  of  heaven  until  the  night  began  to 
deepen.  The  crackling  embers  of  the  fire  slowly 
smouldered  down,  the  chorus  in  the  treetops  began 
to  subside.  Gradually  a  great  stillness  settled  over 
the  velvet  darkness  of  the  woods,  and  still  lying 
motionless  and  content  he  could  hear  only  the  soft 
stir  of  a  leaf  or  the  occasional  "  hush,  hush ! "  that 
the  waters  and  the  shells  whispered,  as  though  they 
were  telling  each  other  that  the  world  was  going  to 
sleep. 

Scotty  forgot  his  bed  in  the  shanty,  a  soft  balsam 
limb  made  a  fragrant  pillow,  and  mother  earth  was 
the  best  couch.  His  senses  floated  away. 

He  was  at  home,  lying  under  the  Silver  Maple ;  the 
sound  of  Granny's  spinning-wheel  came  drowsily 
through  the  doorway.  The  pathway  across  the 
swamp  to  Kirsty's  clearing  was  blue  with  violets;  a 
white  figure  was  flitting  down  it, — coming  to  him  with 
the  sunshine  on  her  golden  hair  and  the  violets  at  her 
feet. 

Suddenly  he  was  wide  awake ;  not  startled,  but  with 
all  his  keen,  woodsman  senses  alert.  Instinctively  he 
reached  for  his  gun.  Something  strange  in  his  sur- 
roundings had  aroused  him,  he  knew.  What  was  it? 
He  lay  listening  intently. 

And  then  out  of  the  depths  of  the  darkness  came 


VOICE     IN     WILDERNESS     291 

the  answer, — a  sound,  dim  and  far  off,  but  echoing 
melodiously  through  the  leafy  arches,  a  voice  as  of 
an  angel,  singing: 

"The  Lord  thee  keeps,  the  Lord  thy  shade 
On  thy  right  hand  doth  stay: 
The  moon  by  night  thee  shall  not  smite, 
Nor  yet  the  sun  by  day." 

Scotty  raised  himself  upon  his  elbow ;  the  sound  of 
the  old  psalm,  coming  without  warning  out  of  the 
uninhabited  darkness,  struck  him  with  awe.  Had  the 
forest  taken  voice,  or  was  it  all  but  a  part  of  his 
dream?  He  listened  breathlessly  until  the  psalm  was 
finished  and  the  silence  had  again  fallen.  There 
seemed  something  too  sweetly  mysterious  about  the 
singing  to  come  from  a  human  source.  There  was 
an  intense  silence  for  a  few  moments,  then  the  voice 
rose  again,  this  time  nearer  and  more  distinct, 

"  The  Lord's  my  Shepherd,  I'll  not  want, 
He  makes  me  down  to  lie 
In  pastures  green,  He  leadeth  me 
The  quiet  waters  by." 

Scotty  was  overwhelmed  with  a  sudden  rush  of 
memory.  He  was  reminded  of  that  day  so  long  ago 
when  the  awesome  shadows  of  the  winter  woods  had 
terrified  him  with  the  first  conception  of  death,  and 
sent  him  with  unerring  instinct  to  the  true  refuge, 


292          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

Who  could  be  wandering  in  this  wild,  lonely  place 
at  night  singing, — singing  the  very  things  calculated 
to  touch  the  depths  of  his  soul? 

The  sound  was  coming  nearer,  growing  in  power, 
as  though  the  singer  felt  the  sublime  confidence  of 
the  words. 

"  Yea,  though  I  walk  through  death's  dark  vale, 
Yet  will  I  fear  no  ill, 
For  Thou  art  with  me  and  Thy  rod 
And  staff  me  comfort  still." 

And  then  Scotty  recognised  the  voice.  It  was  one 
which,  once  heard,  was  not  easily  forgotten.  It  be- 
longed to  the  great  preacher,  Mr.  McAlpine,  the  man 
who  years  before  had  come  to  the  Glen,  and  with  his 
message  from  the  Eternal  roused  the  place  to  a  bet- 
ter life.  But  he  was  an  old  man  now,  and  retired 
from  his  labours,  and  how  came  he  to  be  wandering 
in  this  trackless  wilderness  after  nightfall? 

The  voice  had  ceased,  and  now  the  sound  of  foot- 
steps in  the  crackling  underbrush  could  be  heard- 
Scotty  could  discern  a  dim  figure  coming  towards  his 
fire.  He  stood  up  as  it  approached.  The  old  man 
with  his  long  white  beard,  his  bare  silver  head,  for  he 
carried  his  hat  reverently,  his  tall,  gaunt  figure  and 
piercing  eye  gave  the  young  man  the  impression  of 
one  of  the  great  men  of  Bible  times,  Isaiah,  or  that 


VOICE     IN     WILDERNESS     293 

one  who  preached  in  the  wilderness  beyond  Jordan 
and  called  to  his  hearers  to  make  straight  the  paths 
for  the  coming  of  the  Messiah. 

With  the  mutual  feeling  of  friendship  that  arises 
between  men  in  the  lonely  places  of  the  earth,  the 
two  met  with  outstretched  hands. 

A  smile  of  pleasure  at  the  open  face  and  fine 
physique  of  his  unexpected  host  flashed  over  the  old 
man's  face. 

"  Big  Malcolm  MacDonald's  grandson !  "  he  cried, 
when  Scotty  had  introduced  himself.  "  Oh,  yes,  in- 
deed, I  know  Big  Malcolm  well," — he  shook  the  young 
man's  hand  once  more :  "  Ah  yes,  it  was  his  eldest 
son's  funeral  that  first  took  me  to  the  Oa.  God 
moves  in  a  mysterious  way,  indeed.  And  you  were 
but  a  child  then,  and  now  you  are  a  man.  And  it  is 
a  good  thing  to  be  standing  upon  the  threshold  of 
life,  is  it  not?" 

A  good  thing?  Scotty  would  have  given  a  most 
emphatic  affirmative  in  response  some  months  before, 
but  now  he  was  doubtful. 

"  Yes,"  he  said  hesitatingly,  "  in  some  ways.  But 
how  do  you  happen  to  be  away  back  here  alone,  Mr. 
McAlpine?  " 

The  minister  explained  his  presence.  He  had  been 
asked  to  go  to  Barbay  to  assist  with  the  sacrament 


294          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

on  the  following  Sabbath,  and  had  intended  to  spend 
the  night  with  a  friend  and  take  the  stage  out  in  the 
morning. 

"  But  I  could  not  wait,"  he  concluded,  "  I  was  con- 
strained to  come  on."  There  was  that  strange  gleam 
in  his  eye  which  had  always  so  filled  Scotty  with  awe 
in  his  childhood.  The  young  man  understood.  Mr. 
McAlpine's  burning  restlessness,  his  erratic  way  of 
making  arrangements  to  be  driven  to  certain  places, 
and  then  suddenly  setting  out  in  the  dead  of  night 
to  walk  prodigious  distances  had  been  the  wondering 
talk  of  the  Oa  since  he  was  a  child.  For  this  man 
carried  a  burden  of  souls  that  gave  him  no  rest  day 
or  night,  and  that  even  now,  when  he  was  broken  and 
aged,  sometimes  drove  him  to  stupendous  labour. 

"  But  you  will  surely  stay  here  to-night !  "  cried 
Scotty,  feeling  in  the  capacity  of  host  even  in  this 
wild  tangle  of  forest  growth.  "  I  am  camping,  but 
there  is  plenty  of  room  in  the  shanty,  and  I  can  cook 
you  some  supper." 

The  old  man  accepted  the  hospitality  gratefully. 
He  appeared  worn  and  exhausted,  and  seemed  to  have 
suddenly  lost  his  restless  energy,  as  though  the  spur 
which  had  driven  him  forth  in  the  night  had  been 
removed. 

Scotty  made  a  comfortable  seat  for  him  of  cedar 


VOICE     IN     WILDERNESS     295 

boughs  placed  against  a  large  tree  trunk,  and  stirred 
up  the  fire  to  a  blaze.  Its  rays  danced  forth,  lighting 
up  the  worn  face  and  white  hair  of  the  old  man  seated 
before  it,  and  the  strong  frame  of  the  young  one 
standing  erect  in  splendid  contrast.  The  light  made 
the  log  walls  of  the  old  shanty  stand  forth,  touched 
here  and  there  the  fantastic  heaps  of  dead  brush- 
wood and  misshapen  stumps,  illumined  the  underside 
of  the  adjacent  trees  and  danced  away  down  the  dim 
avenues  to  be  lost  among  the  ghostly  shadows. 

And  while  his  host  prepared  supper,  the  minister 
beguiled  the  time  by  asking  after  all  his  friends  in 
the  Oa  and  the  Glen,  especially  the  Highlanders,  for 
Mr.  McAlpine  was  not  above  possessing  a  little  weak- 
ness for  anyone  who  spoke  the  Gaelic.  And  then  he 
must  know  what  the  young  man  was  doing,  and  how 
he  came  to  be  there. 

Scotty  answered  his  questions  in  the  distantly  re- 
spectful manner  that  all  the  Glenoro  youth  had  been 
wont  to  show  this  man.  He  explained  his  sudden 
excursion  to  the  woods  as  merely  a  natural  desire  to 
be  out  of  doors.  He  told  something  too  of  his  life 
with  Raye  &  Hemming  in  Barbay,  but  he  had  all  the 
reticence  of  his  class  and  kin,  and  the  minister  learned 
little  from  what  he  said. 

And  while  they  conversed  the  elder  man  was  watch- 


296         THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

ing  the  younger  with  the  keen  eye  of  a  detective.  For 
to  old  John  McAlpine  every  soul  with  whom  he  came 
in  contact  was  a  burden  to  be  carried  until  it  was  laid 
safely  at  the  foot  of  the  cross,  and  he  was  yearning 
to  know  if  this  young  man,  so  respectful  and  kindly 
of  manner,  had  yet  had  his  heart  touched  by  Divine 
love. 

He  tried  to  read  the  dark,  young  face  in  the  light 
of  the  dancing  flames,  noting  every  feature — the  in- 
tellectual brow,  the  kind,  bright  eyes,  the  mouth,  still 
boyish,  and  showing  some  wilfulness  and  impatience 
of  rule;  the  resolute  chin.  A  good  face,  the  man 
concluded,  with  rare  possibilities.  But  he  was  con- 
vinced before  the  conversation  closed  that  its  owner 
was  not  a  follower  of  the  meek  and  lowly  One. 

For  the  minister  was  a  marvellous  reader  of  char- 
acter, and  in  spite  of  Scotty's  reserve,  before  the 
evening  was  gone  he  had  allowed  his  guest  to  discover 
that  he  intended  to  carve  out  his  own  destiny  as  he 
desired,  fearless  of  consequences. 

When  everything  was  in  readiness  for  the  night, 
and  the  young  man  had  returned  from  making  up  a 
second  bed  in  the  shanty,  the  minister  drew  up  close 
to  the  fire  and  took  from  his  pocket  a  Bible. 

He  slowly  turned  over  the  leaves,  praying  earnestly 
that  he  might  be  guided  in  his  choice  to  something 


VOICE     IN     WILDERNESS     297 

that  would  touch  this  young  man's  soul.  The  139th 
Psalm  caught  his  eye,  and  the  deep  voice  slowly  and 
solemnly  read: 

"  O  Lord,  thou  hast  searched  me,  and  known  me. 
Thou  knowest  my  down-sitting  and  mine  uprising, 
thou  understandest  my  thoughts  afar  off. 
Whither  shall  I  go  from  thy  spirit?  or  whither  shall 
I  flee  from  thy  presence  ?  If  I  ascend  up  into  heaven, 
thou  art  there :  if  I  make  my  bed  in  hell,  behold  thou 
art  there.  If  I  take  the  wings  of  the  morning,  and 
dwell  in  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  sea,  even  there 
shall  thy  hand  lead  me  and  thy  right  hand  shall  hold 
me.  If  I  say,  surely  the  darkness  shall  cover  me; 
even  the  night  shall  be  light  about  me." 

Leaning  back  against  a  fallen  tree  trunk,  his  face 
partially  hidden  in  shadow,  Scotty  listened  intently. 
Had  this  man  been  sent  out  of  the  darkness  of  the 
forest  to  show  him  how  foolhardy  were  his  attempts 
to  escape  from  God?  For  had  he  not  been  saying  to 
himself  all  these  past  months  that  surely  the  darkness 
of  secrecy  would  cover  his  wrongdoing;  that  some- 
how he  would  escape  from  God. 

He  had  not  read  the  Bible  since  he  left  home,  and 
the  old  familiar  words,  coming  like  a  long-lost  friend, 
struck  him  with  their  inevitable  truth.  His  rest  in 
the  lap  of  nature  had  brought  him  to  himself ;  he  saw 


298         THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

things  with  a  clearer  vision,  and  he  realised  now  that 
the  fierce  yearning  to  be  away  which  had  driven  him 
to  the  forest  had  been  really  the  desire  to  escape  the 
Eye  that  never  sleeps.  The  longing  to  take  the. 
wings  of  the  morning  and  dwell  in  the  uttermost 
parts  of  the  sea  had  been  upon  him,  and  here  God's 
messenger  had  met  him,  and  he  stood  like  a  hunted 
animal  at  bay. 

The  minister  read  on  without  pause  almost  to  the 
end,  and  then  stopped. 

There  were  two  more  verses,  Scotty  well  knew;  he 
and  Isabel  had  learned  that  Psalm  years  ago  at 
Granny's  knee.  "  Search  me,  O  God,  and  know  my 
heart;  try  me,  and  know  my  thoughts;  and  see  if 
there  be  any  wicked  way  in  me,  and  lead  me  in  the 
way  everlasting."  He  looked  up  half -inquiringly  as 
the  voice  ceased.  The  minister  smiled  comprehend- 
ingly. 

"  I  see  you  know  what  follows,"  he  said ;  "  it  is  a 
great  thing  to  be  grounded  in  the  Scriptures  in  youth. 
Do  you  know  why  I  stopped?  " 

"  No,"  said  Scotty,  in  a  whisper. 

"  Because  the  next  is  a  verse  I  hardly  dare  to  read. 
It  is  a  fearful  thing  to  ask  the  Almighty  God  to 
search  the  heart,  for  there  are  wicked  ways  in  us, 
many  and  deep."  He  began  slowly  turning  over  the 


VOICE     IN     WILDERNESS     299 

leaves  again,  and  Scotty  waited  with  a  strange  dread 
of  what  was  coming. 

The  passage  was  from  the  challenging  words  that 
came  to  Job  out  of  the  whirlwind,  and  like  a  whirl- 
wind they  swept  over  the  young  man's  soul. 

"  Who  is  this  that  darkeneth  counsel,  by  words 
without  knowledge?  Gird  up  now  thy  loins,  like  a 
man,  for  I  will  demand  of  thee,  and  answer  thou  me." 

He  paused  a  moment  and  his  listener  held  his 
breath.  To  him  the  words  did  not  seem  to  be  spoken 
by  man,  but  seemed  to  come  out  of  the  whispering 
darkness  of  the  great  forest. 

"  Where  wast  thou  when  I  laid  the  foundations 
of  the  earth?  declare,  if  thou  hast  understanding. 
Whereupon  are  the  foundations  thereof 
fastened?  or  who  laid  the  cornerstone  thereof;  when 
the  morning  stars  sang  together  and  all  the  sons  of 
God  shouted  for  joy?  " 

Scotty's  heart  suddenly  swelled.  This  great  Je- 
hovah was  speaking  directly  to  him;  the  Jehovah 
whose  inexorable  laws  were  written  in  man's  very  be- 
ing, as  well  as  in  His  Book.  And  he,  His  creature, 
was  about  to  set  them  aside,  declaring  that  he  would 
walk  as  seemed  right  in  his  own  eyes. 

But  the  minister  was  still  reading.  "  Hast  thou 
commanded  the  morning  since  thy  days;  and  caused 


300         THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

the  day-spring  to  know  his  place?  .  .  .  Have 
the  gates  of  death  been  opened  unto  thee?  or  hast 
thou  seen  the  doors  of  the  shadow  of  death?  .  .  . 
Canst  thou  bind  the  sweet  influences  of  the  Pleiades, 
or  loose  the  bands  of  Orion  ?  " 

Scotty  listened  with  heart  and  ears,  and  when  the 
minister  came  at  last  to  Job's  confession,  he  felt  he 
could  echo  the  words,  "  I  have  heard  of  thee  by  the 
hearing  of  the  ear,  but  now  mine  eye  seeth  thee. 
Wherefore  I  abhor  myself  and  repent  in  dust  and 
ashes." 

The  amber  column  of  smoke  rising  straight  to  the 
circle  of  sky  was  suddenly  touched  with  a  silver 
radiance.  Up  from  behind  the  dark  island  the 
moon  had  arisen,  radiant  and  burnished,  and  was 
sending  a  long  shimmering  pathway  across  the  deep 
blue  of  Lake  Simcoe.  Scotty's  eyes  followed  its  glint 
between  the  tree  trunks  and  the  words  came  over  him 
again,  "  Now  mine  eye  seeth  thee."  But  when  the 
minister  paused  he  came  back  to  realities.  Another 
picture  rose  before  him,  the  sweet  face  of  the  girl 
he  loved,  the  one  whom  he  was  to  win  by  keeping  in 
the  path  wherein  he  now  walked.  A  look  of  defiance 
flitted  across  his  face.  No.  He  would  go  on.  He 
could  never  give  up  now ! 

But  the  leaves  had  rustled  again,  and  now  the 


VOICE     IN     WILDERNESS     301 

minister  had  resumed  his  word  pictures.  This  time 
they  were  not  of  the  mighty  Jehovah,  just,  unap- 
proachable, omnipotent;  but  of  the  lonely  Man  of 
Nazareth  standing  by  the  lakeside  and  calling  the 
fishermen  to  Him,  and  then  on  to  Calvary  when  He 
said,  "  Father,  forgive  them,  for  they  know  not  what 
they  do." 

The  elder  man's  keen  eyes  saw  the  tokens  of  a  con- 
flict in  the  other's  face,  and  he  was  too  wise  to  address 
him  directly.  His  occasional  remarks  had  the  effect 
of  soliloquies,  but  they  plunged  Scotty's  soul  in  the 
valley  of  shadows. 

He  was  thinking  how  all  his  life  he  had  been  com- 
passed about.  He  knew  now  that  what  he  had  called 
hedging  circumstances  had  been  God's  very  Hand. 
His  grandmother's  faithful  teachings  had  guided  his 
careless  boyish  feet ;  his  grandfather's  falls  from  the 
high  position  he  had  set  himself  were  graphic  object- 
lessons  to  teach  the  value  of  righteousness ;  Monteith's 
influence  had  kept  him  in  the  right  way,  and  now  how 
dared  he  turn  aside  of  his  own  will? 

But  what  was  the  minister  reading  now?  What 
but  the  story  of  a  young  man,  one  so  goodly  and 
commendable  in  person  and  character  that  the  Mas- 
ter had  regarded  him  with  an  especial  feeling  of  com- 
radeship ;  but  there  was  one  thing  he  refused  to  give 


302          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

up,  and  he  turned  his  back  upon  the  Saviour  of  man- 
kind and  went  away  sorrowful,  "  for  his  possessions 
were  very  great."  And  Scotty's  possessions  were 
great  also — those  he  was  about  to  reach  out  and 
seize,  infinitely  beyond  the  value  of  gold  and  silver, 
and  he  wanted  to  turn  away,  too,  but  something  held 
him. 

The  minister  glanced  at  the  young  man's  face,  and 
knew  his  heart  had  been  touched.  He  closed  the 
Book.  "  Let  us  pray,"  he  said,  and  rising,  knelt 
by  the  side  of  a  moss-grown  log.  But  Scotty  did  not 
kneel;  he  sat  erect,  staring  with  desperate  eyes  into 
the  fire,  and  striving  with  all  the  force  of  his  will  to 
harden  his  heart.  To  his  relief  the  old  man  made 
no  remark  upon  his  strange  conduct  when  he  arose 
from  his  knees,  but  at  once  went  to  his  bed  in  the 
shanty.  Some  subtle  instinct  told  him  the  young 
man  would  be  better  alone. 

Long  after  he  had  retired  Scotty  walked  up  and 
down  before  the  fire,  fighting  out  the  old,  weary  bat- 
tle ;  but  now  with  a  fury  as  if  for  life. 

To  go  on  with  his  work  at  Raye  &  Hemming's  now 
in  the  light  of  what  had  come  to  him  this  night  would 
be,  he  knew,  to  cast  aside  all  the  teachings  of  his  life- 
time— the  teachings  of  Granny,  of  experience,  yes, 
even  of  Monteith,  for  he  realised  now  they  had  e»lj 


VOICE     IN     WILDERNESS     303 

come  from  God,  and  were  one.  He  was  down  in  the 
valley  of  the  shadows,  and  the  rod  and  staff  were 
of  no  comfort  to  him,  for  they  meant  pain  and 
renunciation. 

He  could  not  give  up  Captain  Herbert's  friend- 
ship and  Isabel;  he  could  not  go  on.  The  fire  had 
died  down  to  a  red  eye  looking  sullenly  out  of  the 
smoky  darkness,  the  moon  had  sunk  behind  the  forest 
ring,  and  out  of  the  blackness  of  night  came  a  sensa- 
tion of  approaching  change,  a  hint  that  the  dawn 
was  near.  As  Scotty,  pale  and  haggard,  stood  look- 
ing into  the  dying  fire,  a  step  aroused  him  and  the 
minister  was  by  his  side. 

"  Why,  sir,"  he  cried  in  surprise,  "  you  will  surely 
not  be  getting  up  yet.  It  is  quite  dark." 

"  I  was  not  sleeping,"  said  the  old  man.  "  I  could 
not  but  watch  you,"  he  added  gently,  "  for  I  cannot 
but  see  you  are  carrying  a  burden;  one  heavy  for 
your  time  of  life,  my  lad,  and  I  wondered  if  I  could 
be  of  any  help." 

All  Scotty's  mental  attitude  of  defiance  melted 
away  before  this  gentle  sympathy.  He  was  silent, 
simply  through  the  inability  to  speak,  and  the  min- 
ister continued,  "  Do  not  speak  of  it  if  you  would 
rather  not.  I  would  not  force  your  confidence, 
but  just  come  and  we  will  pray  about  it,  and 


304          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

you  will  tell  the  Father  and  He  will  be  making  it 
right." 

Scotty  turned  with  a  gesture  of  defeat.  To  pray 
was  the  last  thing  he  desired  to  do,  it  meant  sur- 
render; but  this  time  he  knelt  obediently  at  the  min- 
ister's side  by  the  dying  fire. 

And  as  he  bowed  his  head  he  was  suddenly  startled 
by  the  words  that  broke  forth.  It  seemed  as  if  all 
his  own  soul's  struggle  had  been  transferred  to  the 
man  at  his  side.  Old  John  McAlpine  had  a  won- 
drous gift  of  prayer,  one  that  never  failed  to  cast  a 
solemn  spell  over  his  hearers,  and  to-night  he  pleaded 
for  the  soul  of  this  young  man  as  if  for  his  life.  His 
big  hands  were  knotted,  the  perspiration  stood  in 
beads  on  his  white  forehead,  and  his  agonised  voice 
rose  and  went  ringing  away  into  the  forest.  Scotty 
was  awesomely  reminded  of  One  who  prayed  in  a  gar- 
den, quite  unlike  this  one  of  nature's  wild  making, 
and  sweat  drops  of  blood  because  of  the  sin  he  was  to 
bear.  And  before  the  minister  had  ceased  it  seemed 
as  if  that  other  One  came  to  his  side  and  took  up  the 
petition,  for  Scotty  felt  his  worldly  desires  slip  from 
him  like  a  garment.  The  struggle  was  over.  Hence- 
forth there  could  be  no  indecision,  for  he  was  not  his 
own,  but  had  been  bought  with  a  price. 

When  they  arose  from  their  knees  the  darkness  had! 


VOICE     IN     WILDERNESS     305 

suddenly  become  transparent.  A  mysterious  rustle 
and  whisper  of  awakening  life  was  on  all  sides,  the 
dawn  was  on  the  point  of  breaking.  Scotty's  fire, 
like  his  worldly  hopes,  had  died  down  to  pale  ashes, 
but  far  out  on  the  faintly  grey  bosom  of  Lake  Sim- 
coe,  and  away  beyond  its  dark  forest-ring,  soon  to 
put  all  lesser  lights  to  shame  in  their  triumphant 
blaze,  were  kindling  the  fires  of  Heaven. 


XIV 
THE     VOYAGEURS 

Oh,  the  East  is  but  the  West,  with  the  sun  a  little  hotter; 
And  the  pine  becomes  a  palm  by  the  dark  Egyptian  water; 
And  the  Nile's  like  many  a  stream  we  know  that  fills  its 

brimming  cup; 

We'll  think  it  is  the  Ottawa  as  we  track  the  batteaux  up! 
Pull,  pull,  pull!    as  we  track  the  batteaux  up! 
It's  easy  shooting  homeward  when  we're  at  the  top. 

— WILLIAM  WYE  SMITH. 

THE  Imperial  transport,  Ocean  King,  had 
loosed  from  her  moorings  at  Montreal  and 
was  swinging  down  with  the  tide  of  the 
mighty  St.  Lawrence,  and  on  her  deck,  many  leaning 
eagerly  over  the  railing  to  get  a  last  glimpse  of  home, 
stood  some  four  hundred  stalwart  sons  of  the  Maple 
Land.  Great,  strong  fellows  they  were,  all  with  the 
iron  muscles  and  steady,  clear  eyes  of  the  expert  river- 
man.  For  these  were  the  famous  voyageurs,  trained 
from  childhood  on  the  rapids  and  cataracts  of  Ca- 
nadian streams  and  summoned  now  to  the  help  of  the 
mother  country  on  the  ancient  river  of  Egypt. 

When  Lord  Wolseley  found  himself  face  to  face 
306 


THE     VOYAGEURS  307 

with  the  tremendous  task  of  reaching  Gordon  far  up 
the  hostile  Nile,  he  remembered  the  assistance  he  had 
received  in  an  earlier  expedition  in  a  western  land 
from  the  daring,  untiring,  cool-headed,  warm-hearted 
Canadian  boatmen.  And  he  asked  that  once  more 
they  might  give  him  aid.  And  here  they  were,  the 
best  the  country  could  produce,  a  rollicking,  light- 
hearted  crew,  ready  for  anything — adventure,  hard 
work,  danger,  death. 

Among  those  who  stood  longest  gazing  at  the  re- 
ceding land  were  two  who  had  begun  their  years  of 
apprenticeship  for  this  great  day  on  the  little,  noisy, 
foaming  stream  that  scolded  its  way  into  the  Oro 
river.  And  one  of  them,  looking  at  the  fast-fading 
outline  of  Mount  Royal,  saw  instead  an  old  log  house 
among  the  enfolding  Ontario  hills,  with  a  Silver 
Maple  spreading  its  protecting  branches  above  the 
roof.  His  home! — and  the  dear  home  faces,  how 
they  rose  up  from  the  misty  shore ;  and  another  face, 
the  most  beautiful  in  the  world,  as  he  had  seen  it  that 
winter  night  in  the  sunset  glow ! 

And  he  had  left  all,  had  turned  his  back  upon 
friends  and  home,  and  love  itself,  for  what?  A  mere 
sentiment?  A  mad  notion  born  of  that  night  in  the 
wilderness  the  spring  before?  The  man  who  had 
been  his  guide  and  instructor,  his  staunchest  friend 


308         THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

and  truest  adviser  from  boyhood,  had  called  his  new 
impulse  by  just  such  a  name,  and  the  loss  of  his 
esteem  had  been  one  of  the  bitterest  drops  in  Scotty's 
cup  of  renunciation.  Apparently  he  had  done  in- 
jury to  himself  in  every  quarter,  by  giving  up  his 
connection  with  Raye  &  Hemming.  Captain  Herbert 
had  been  disgusted  and  had  declared  he  washed  his 
hands  of  him,  Monteith  had  been  filled  with  righteous 
indignation  over  such  blind  folly,  and  his  grand- 
parents had  been  keenly  disappointed.  And  Isabel? 
That  was  the  hardest  part.  What  would  Isabel  think  ? 
Perhaps  she,  too,  was  offended,  and  he  had  had  no 
opportunity  to  vindicate  himself.  And  yet,  through 
disappointments,  estrangements  and  doubts,  he  clung 
tenaciously  to  his  purpose.  He  was  done  forever 
with  Raye  &  Hemming,  and  no  power  on  earth 
could  drive  him  back.  Before  he  left  Barbay,  Mon- 
teith had  come  down  upon  him  to  bring  him  to  a 
more  reasonable  state  of  mind.  The  schoolmaster 
had  scolded,  entreated,  and  had  even  brought  up  ar- 
guments which  Scotty  was  powerless  to  combat.  In 
his  perplexity  and  bewilderment  he  could  answer 
nothing;  only  there  had  come  vividly  to  his  mind 
the  reply  of  another  young  man  in  somewhat  similar 
circumstances;  a  young  man,  who,  when  clever  peo- 
ple argued  that  the  Man  who  had  opened  his  eyes 


THE     VOYAGEURS  309 

was  at  fault,  could  only  say,  "  One  thing  I  know, 
that,  whereas  I  was  blind,  now  I  see." 

For  that  night  in  the  wilderness  had  given  this 
young  man  a  clearer  vision  of  right  and  wrong,  the 
keen  perception  granted  to  those  only  who  have 
passed  by  Calvary  and  seen  the  One  who  suffered 
there  and  conquered.  And  in  that  uplifting  moment 
he  had  heard  the  voice  of  the  Eternal  say,  "  This 
is  the  way,  walk  ye  in  it " ;  and  he  could  not  but 
obey. 

So  Scotty  had  turned  his  back  upon  all  his  worldly 
prospects,  because  they  had  led  from  the  way  of 
integrity ;  and  early  in  the  summer  had  gone  to  seek 
employment  amongst  the  lumbering  centres  of  the 
Ottawa.  And  a.way  back  there  he  had  been  tracked 
and  joined  by  his  faithful  henchman,  Dan  Murphy. 
,This  strange  freak  on  Scotty's  part  had  no  effect 
on  Dartny's  warm  heart.  What  cared  he  that  his 
chum  preferred  working  in  the  bush  to  a  college  edu- 
cation? That  mattered  little,  so  long  as  they  were 
together.  For  had  Scotty  turned  Mohammedan  and 
gone  forth  to  convert  the  world  to  his  beliefs,  not 
one  inch  would  his  friend's  loyalty  have  swerved. 

And,  while  they  worked  on  the  upper  Ottawa,  the 
call  for  the  Nile  voyageurs  had  come.  Here  was 
an  opportunity  to  see  the  world  and  serve  the  Em- 


310         THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

pire,  and  the  boys  had  gladly  embraced  it.  And  so 
Scotty  was  going  down  into  Egypt,  because  the  great 
Controller  of  Destiny  had  need  of  him  there,  as  He 
had  long  before  needed  another  young  man  in  that 
same  land  to  perfect  His  divine  plans. 

The  Canadians  commenced  active  work  at  a  sta- 
tion on  the  Nile  a  few  miles  from  Wady  Haifa.  The 
busy  little  trains,  that  came  puffing  up  from  Cairo, 
landed  this  latest  addition  to  Britain's  forces  amid 
all  the  bustle  and  stir  of  the  departing  army.  Here 
the  naval  detachment  of  the  River  Column  was  pre- 
paring to  embark.  The  steel-keeled  whaleboats,  the 
especial  care  of  the  voyageurs,  were  being  fitted  up 
with  masts  and  oars.  As  soon  as  ready  they  were 
filled  with  soldiers  or  Dongolese  boatmen,  the  Cana- 
dian bowman  and  helmsman  took  their  places,  and 
out  they  shot  up  the  swift,  brown  current. 

Scotty  and  his  chum  found  that  their  turn  to  em- 
bark was  not  likely  to  come  for  some  time,  and  they 
employed  their  first  day  of  leisure  in  looking  about 
them.  To  their  unaccustomed  Western  eyes  the 
place  presented  endless  interest.  It  was  full  of  the 
noise  and  display  of  a  military  camp,  and  alive  with 
potent  signs  of  war.  Trains  loaded  with  ammunition 
went  puffing  out;  bands  of  baggage-mules,  driven 


THE     VOYAGEURS  311 

by  scantily-dressed  natives,  came  down  to  the  water's 
edge  to  drink;  and  stately  camels  swayed  past. 

Now  and  then  a  detachment  of  a  regiment  swung 
out  desertward,  whether  on  hostile  acts  intent  or 
for  exercise,  only  the  initiated  could  tell.  The  boys 
stood  watching  them  with  absorbed  interest.  First 
came  the  Coldstream  Guards,  then  the  Grenadiers, 
and  finally  the  Black  Watch  stepping  out  splendidly 
to  the  rousing  scream  of  the  pipers.  Scotty  had 
been  taking  in  all  the  sights  calmly,  but  this  last  was 
too  much  for  his  Highland  blood;  and,  in  spite  of 
Dan's  jeers,  he  leaped  to  his  feet  with  a  cheer,  as 
they  whirled  past. 

But  even  such  spectacles  as  these  began  to  pall. 
The  Canadians  soon  discovered  that  an  army  is  an 
unwieldy  monster,  and  that  even  a  flying  column 
moves  slowly.  When  the  third  day  came  and  they 
still  awaited  their  call  to  the  boats,  Dan  became 
restless.  This  period  of  enforced  idleness  acted 
upon  him  like  firewater  upon  a  wild  Indian,  and 
his  friend  soon  had  his  hands  full  keeping  him  from 
disaster. 

On  the  last  afternoon  of  their  waiting  Scotty 
composed  himself  under  a  gum  acacia  tree  near  the 
river  to  write  home.  They  expected  to  go  at  any 
moment  and  he  must  leave  a  last  message  for  Granny. 


THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

With  the  aid  of  an  old  box  for  a  writing  desk  and  the 
battered  lid  of  a  tin  can  for  an  inkbottle  he  managed 
his  task  fairly  well.  The  sun  was  blazing  down  on 
rock  and  sand  and  river,  but  the  breeze  from  the 
north  blew  up  cool  and  grateful,  reminding  him  of 
the  June  zephyrs  that  came  up  from  Lake  Oro  to 
stir  the  boughs  of  the  Silver  Maple. 

Near  him,  stretched  full  length  upon  the  ground, 
lay  Dan,  striving  to  be  as  cross  as  his  light-hearted 
Irish  spirits  would  permit.  Scotty  had  just  a  moment 
before  forcibly  rescued  him  from  a  row  with  some 
idle,  poker-playing  Tommies,  and  the  wild  Irishman 
felt  small  gratitude  towards  his  preserver.  He  rolled 
about  restlessly,  pronouncing  serio-comic  denuncia- 
tions upon  everything  in  Egypt  from  Lord  Wolseley 
to  the  baggage-mules,  and  informing  his  inexorable 
keeper  at  short  intervals,  that  if  something  didn't 
hurry  up  and  happen,  glory  be,  but  he'd  commit 
high  treason — a  crime  of  which  Dan  had  only  the 
vaguest  notion,  but  one  which  he  imagined  immeas- 
ureably  transcended  all  other  forms  of  iniquity. 

Scotty  paid  no  attention  to  these  threats ;  he 
finished  his  letter,  packed  his  writing  materials  into 
his  kit  bag,  and  stood  up  to  stretch  his  limbs.  Over 
near  the  officers'  quarters  a  couple  of  Tommies  were 
making  strenuous  efforts  to  hold  down  a  reluctant 


THE     VOYAGEURS  313 

and  evil-minded  camel  long  enough  to  permit  a  fat 
and  pompous  Colonel  to  mount. 

"  That  brute  must  be  some  relation  to  you,  Dan," 
said  Scotty  laughingly,  "  he  seems  to  have  got  up 
a  mighty  objection  to  everything  in  the  way  of  com- 
mon sense." 

Dan  did  not  reply ;  he  had  raised  himself  upon  his 
elbow  and  was  listening  eagerly  to  something  else. 
His  attention  had  been  caught  by  the  conversation 
of  a  couple  of  officers  who  were  coming  up  from  the 
water-side.  One  was  a  young  army  subaltern,  fresh 
from  home,  very  innocent  and  well-meaning,  but  be- 
longing to  that  class  of  youth  who,  because  of  a 
serene  consciousness  of  vast  inward  resources,  is  cer- 
tain to  fall  a  prey  to  circumstances.  His  companion 
was  slightly  older,  a  young  officer  of  the  Naval 
Brigade  under  Lord  Beresford.  He  was  squarely- 
set,  with  a  frank,  good-humoured  face. 

The  subaltern  was  evidently  showing  his  newly- 
arrived  friend  the  sights.  "  Those  are  the  American 
Indians  we've  brought  out  to  pilot  the  boats,"  he 
explained,  with  a  nod  in  the  direction  of  a  group  of 
French  Canadians  standing  at  the  boat-slip ;  "  rather 
a  fine  looking  lot  o'  beggars,  aren't  they  ?  " 

His  companion  laughed.  "  Indians  be  hanged !  " 
he  exclaimed  merrily.  "  More  than  half  those  fellows 


314          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

are  no  more  Indians  than  you  are.  Jove,  it  does  a 
fellow's  eyes  good  to  see  something  from  home.  I'm 
going  to  have  a  chat  with  them." 

"  Pshaw,  you  don't  expect  to  find  friends  there,  I 
hope.  'Pon  honour,  they're  red  Indians,  every  one 
of  them.  Wolseley  got  'em.  And  Harcourt  says 
they're  the  aboriginal  thing." 

"  Your  Colonel's  an  insular  baa-lamb,  Bobby ;  you 
can  bet  Wolseley  never  said  it.  Surely,  as  I  was 
born  and  brought  up  in  Canada  I'm  likely  to  know 
a  red  Indian  from  myself  now,  am  I  not  ?  " 

The  subaltern  looked  annoyed.  "  I  think  you're 
mistaken  this  time,"  he  said  with  some  dignity ;  "  per- 
haps an  odd  one  or  so  may  be  white,  but  the  majority 
are  the  real  thing.  Look  at  that  big  fellow  there, 
now.  I'll  bet  two  to  one  he's  a  full  blood,  anyway." 

The  other  glanced  at  the  man  indicated.  Scotty's 
face  and  arms,  always  brown,  had  become  almost 
copper-coloured  in  even  his  short  exposure  to  the 
Egyptian  sun,  and  his  lithe,  muscular  figure,  leaning 
easily  against  the  tree,  was  not  unlike  that  of  the 
stalwart  Caughnawagas  from  the  St.  Lawrence,  but 
as  the  young  naval  officer  looked  at  him  he  laughed 
derisively. 

"  Done  with  you,"  he  cried  gaily.  "  Go  and  ask 
him." 


THE     VOYAGEURS  315 

The  subaltern  marched  up  promptly  to  the  voy- 
ageur.  "  I  say,  Canadian,"  he  said  somewhat  stiffly, 
"  here's  a  gentleman  who  says  you're  not  an  Indian. 
Just  tell  him  politely  that  he's  mistaken,  please." 

Scotty  turned  from  his  contemplation  of  the  camel 
to  find,  to  his  surprise,  that  he  was  being  addressed. 
But  before  he  could  reply,  Dan  had  forestalled  him. 
That  young  man,  whose  red  hair  and  Hibernian  fea- 
tures could  have  left  no  doubt  even  in  the  subaltern's 
mind  as  to  his  nationality,  had  been  listening,  with 
huge  enjoyment,  to  the  conversation.  He  had  risen 
to  his  feet  and  was  saluting  with  grave  respect. 

"  Sure  it's  yourself  that's  right,  sir,"  he  said  with 
an  apologetic  air.  "  Anybody  can  see  he's  an  Indian. 
He  belongs  to  one  of  our  worst  tribes — the  Blood- 
drinkers,  they  call  themselves.  His  name's  Big 
Scalper.  And  sure,"  he  added,  lowering  his  voice 
fearfully,  "  it's  the  bloodthirsty  brute  he  is,  an*  no 
mistake ! " 

The  young  naval  officer  came  forward  and  gazed 
fixedly  into  the  speaker's  meek  and  innocent  counte- 
nance, but  could  detect  there  no  smallest  sign  of 
deceit.  The  subaltern  looked  solemn. 

"  Is  that  all  true  he's  telling  us,  Big  Scalper?  " 
he  asked  dubiously. 

"  Sure,  there's  no  use  talkin'  to  him,  sir,"  broke 


S16          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

in  Dan,  with  patient  surprise ;  "  he  can't  spake  a 
word  but  his  own  outlandish  jabber.  The  cratur  was 
jist  runnin'  wild  in  the  bush  when  Colonel  Denison 
caught  him  an'  brought  him  out  here."  The  young 
man's  air  of  kindly  anxiety,  mingled  with  innocent 
seriousness,  was  too  much  for  mortal  gravity.  Big 
Scalper  turned  his  back  with  strange  suddenness  and 
stared  fixedly  out  upon  the  hot,  grey  glint  of  the 
river. 

A  little  group  of  idle  Canadians  had  begun  to 
gravitate  towards  them.  Dan  Murphy  had  already 
earned  a  reputation  among  them  as  a  source  of  enter- 
tainment, and  was  particularly  interesting  whenever 
anyone  evinced  a  desire  to  learn  anything  of  his 
native  land.  The  officers  were  wont  to  question  the 
voyageurs,  and  Dan  played  upon  their  ignorance  of 
the  western  half  of  their  Empire,  which  was  deep 
enough  to  begin  with,  and  made  it  abysmal. 

"  I  told  you,"  cried  the  subaltern  triumphantly. 
"  I've  won  my  bet,  old  fellow !  " 

"  Strange  how  he's  going  to  pilot  a  boat-load  of 
men  up  the  river  without  the  use  of  the  English  lan- 
guage," suggested  the  young  naval  officer,  with  a 
slightly  sarcastic  drawl. 

"  Aw,  ye  don't  know  him,"  cried  Mr.  Murphy  in 
a  tone  expressive  of  fear,  "  he'll  find  a  way  to  make 


THE     VOYAGEURS  317 

them  mind  or  he'll  bash  all  their  heads  in.  Sure, 
he's  the  Divil  himself,  sir.  Jist  look  at  the  wicked 
eye  o'  him  now,  will  ye?  " 

This  was  going  too  far  for  safety,  and  Big  Scalper 
turned  upon  his  loquacious  showman.  He  was  too 
much  an  artist  to  spoil  the  play  by  proclaiming  it  a 
sham,  so  he  spoke  a  few  rapid  words  in  Gaelic.  The 
Murphy's  knowledge  of  that  language  was  naturally 
limited,  but  there  was  never  a  boy  in  Glenoro  school, 
be  his  nationality  what  it  might,  who  did  not  pick 
up  much  of  the  war-vocabulary  of  the  Fighting  Mac- 
Donalds,  and  Dan  had  no  difficulty  in  gathering  from 
Scotty's  remark  that  he  was  being  strongly  advised 
to  immediately  shut  his  mouth. 

"  What's  he  sayin'?  "  inquired  the  subaltern  in- 
terestedly. 

Dan's  face  was  a  study  in  pained  and  polite 
anxiety. 

"  I'm  askin*  yer  pardon,  sir,"  he  said  nervously, 
"  but  I  think  it  would  be  safer  if  ye  wouldn't  be 
lookin'  at  him  anny  longer.  He's  askin'  me  which 
o*  yer  scalps  I  think  would  look  best  danglin'  from 
his  belt!" 

There  was  a  shout  of  long-suppressed  laughter 
from  the  on-looking  Canadians,  and  the  young 
officer's  face  flamed  up  angrily. 


318          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

"  I  shall  report  you  for  this  insolence !  "  he  cried, 
suddenly  awakening  to  his  ignominious  position. 

But  his  friend  caught  his  arm  and  drew  him 
away. 

"  Come  out  of  this,  Bob ! "  he  cried  in  a  chok- 
ing voice.  "  You'll  report  nothing !  You'd  better 
not  monkey  with  those  fellows.  That  young  Irish 
ruffian  was  improvising  as  he  went  along.  And  I'm 
awfully  sorry,  Bobby  dear,  but  I'm  afraid  I've 
won  my  bet,"  he  added,  allowing  his  laughter  to 
overcome  him,  "  because — because — oh,  Holy  Maria, 
hold  me  up,  I'm  going  to  die ! — because  Big  Scalper 
speaks  a  language  that's  amazingly  like  the  stuff 
the  pipers  of  the  Black  Watch  jabber  to  one 
another ! " 

As  Scotty  moved  down  to  the  landing  he  gave  his 
tormentor  a  good-humoured  shaking.  "  It's  lots  of 
fun,  I  know,  Dan ;  but  you'd  better  keep  that  long, 
Irish  tongue  of  yours  still  before  the  officers,  or  you'll 
get  into  trouble.  I  don't  know  what  that  fellow's 
going  to  do." 

"  Be  jabers,  it  would  be  worth  pickin'  oakum  for 
a  year  jist  to  take  down  his  blamed  consate.  Did 
ye  iver  see  such  a  banty  rooster  as  the  young  wasp 
was?  The  little  sailor  chap  wasn't  half  bad.  And, 
say,  Scot,  did  ye  hear  him  say  he  was  a  Canadian 


THE     VOYAGEURS  319 

or  from  Canady,  or  somethin'  like  that?  It  ac- 
counts for  his  good  manners." 

"Who,  the  bluejacket?"  Scotty  looked  with  in- 
terest after  the  young  man's  retreating  form.  There 
was  something  in  his  trim,  straight  figure  that  some- 
how seemed  familiar. 

"  What's  his  name,  I  wonder  ?  "  he  began,  when  a 
peremptory  order  interrupted.  "  Stanwell,  into 
number  150 ! "  cried  the  sharp  voice  of  the  overseer, 
and  Scotty  sprang  into  the  stern  of  the  boat  and 
was  off  for  his  first  battle  with  the  cataracts  of  the 
Nile. 


XV 
THE    SECRET  OF   THE   NILE 

O  mystic  Nile!    Thy  secret  yields 
Before  us;   thy  most  ancient  dreams 
Are  mixed  with  far  Canadian  fields 
And  murmur  of  Canadian  streams. 

— C.  D.  G.  ROBERTS. 

THE  awe-inspiring  designation  which  Dan 
had  bestowed  upon  his  friend  was  not  readily 
dropped.  The  Canadians  seized  and  used 
it  joyfully.  Others  who  heard  the  name  and  were 
not  aware  of  the  joke  in  which  it  originated  supposed 
that  the  bearer  of  it  was  really  an  Indian  chief, 
about  whose  bloody  prowess  they  were  ready  to  be- 
lieve any  tales  which  the  ingenious  Mr.  Murphy 
might  invent.  And  so,  for  the  remainder  of  the 
voyage,  Scotty  was  known  throughout  the  column  as 
Big  Scalper,  the  fiercest  Indian  from  the  Canadian 
wilds. 

But  in  the  days  that  followed  Dan  found  few 
opportunities  for  indulging  his  reckless  humour,  for 
soon  the  army  was  moving  forward  rapidly  and  the 
boatmen  were  in  the  midst  of  stupendous  toil.  The 

320 


SECRET     OF     THE     NILE      321 

River  Column  had  been  bidden  to  make  haste.  Gor- 
don was  shut  up  in  Khartoum  waiting  his  rescuers, 
and  no  one  must  rest.  On  they  went,  day  after  day, 
past  dreary  stretches  of  sand,  broken  only  by  an  oc- 
casional and  equally  dreary  dom  palm ;  past  barren 
ledges  of  rock,  deserted  mud  villages  and  ruined  tem- 
ples; battling  madly  with  a  rapid,  only  to  find 
when  it  was  overcome  that  another  lay  ahead;  toil- 
ing strenuously  to  catch  up  with  the  enemy,  only 
to  see  at  nightfall  their  spearheads  disappearing 
over  the  last  brown  ridge  of  sand  hills.  Scotty  felt 
himself  becoming  a  machine,  something  that  did  the 
day's  work  mechanically.  To  toil  all  day  in  the 
bow  or  stern  of  a  boat  in  the  scorching  heat  of  the 
pitiless  sun,  or  walk  over  blistering  rock  and  daz- 
zling sand ;  to  sleep  at  night  inside  a  square  of  good 
British  bayonets,  chilled  by  the  numbing  wind  from 
the  north ;  to  rise  at  the  bugle-call  and  go  at  it  again 
— that  was  the  unvarying  programme.  Cataract  and 
sand  plain  succeeded  cataract  and  sand  plain  with 
such  deadly  monotony,  that  all  sense  of  time,  place, 
and  progress  was  blotted  out.  They  seemed  station- 
ary in  an  endless  desert,  toiling  against  an  endless 
river,  always  moving  but  never  advancing. 

He  often  wondered,  as  he  watched  the  brown,  tur- 
bid water  racing  down  to  meet  him,  what  secret  the 


322          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

mysterious  Nile  held  for  him.  What  would  be  its 
bearing  upon  his  life?  But  he  always  ended  his  ques- 
tionings with  the  assurance  that  whatever  the  out- 
come might  be,  even  though  he  should  never  see  it, 
it  was  controlled  by  a  higher  Power,  and  he  was 
content. 

And  through  all  the  hardships  and  stress  of  the 
work,  the  struggle  with  the  rapids,  the  hunger  and 
privations,  the  new  life  which  had  been  implanted 
in  Scotty's  heart  was  his  greatest  stay.  Many  a 
time  in  the  face  of  temptation  he  blessed  the  saintly 
old  woman  far  away  in  the  Canadian  backwoods 
for  the  godly  training  he  had  received  beneath  the 
Silver  Maple.  He  found  he  needed  all  his  strength 
in  this  new,  wild  life ;  for  a  more  gaily-gallant,  reck- 
less, devil-may-care  crew  than  the  Canadian  voy- 
ageurs,  who  fought  and  overcame  the  ancient  Nile, 
surely  never  wielded  paddles.  His  chief  trial  was 
his  own  faithful  follower,  for  Dan  Murphy  strove  to 
out-Canadian  the  wildest  river-driver  of  the  Ottawa 
valley.  And  had  Scotty's  strong  hand  not  been  often 
placed  upon  the  unsteady  tiller  of  his  friend's  life, 
there  might  have  been  a  sadder  wreck  among  the  Nile 
voyageurs  than  has  been  set  down  in  history.  His 
vigilant  oversight  of  Dan's  conduct  did  not  prevent 
him  distinguishing  himself  in  quite  a  unique  way. 


SECRET     OF     THE     NILE       323 

Ever  since  he  had  left  Cairo  that  young  man's  one 
hope  in  life  had  been  to  participate  in  a  battle. 
There  came  a  day,  later,  when  he  and  Scotty  worked 
side  by  side  on  the  blood-stained  rocks  of  the  desert, 
helping  to  remove  the  dead  and  wounded ;  when  they 
saw  their  General's  body  lowered  into  its  lonely  grave, 
and  witnessed  the  hundred  harrowing  sights  of  a 
battlefield;  and  then  and  there,  much  of  the 
boyish  glamour  of  battle  faded  before  the  horrible 
reality.  But  that  time  had  not  yet  come;  and,  like 
Napoleon,  Dan  was  convinced  that  war  was  a  grand 
game. 

So  when  the  reluctant  enemy  at  last  massed 
itself  upon  the  rocky  ledges  of  Kirbekan  to  delay  the 
column,  and  the  joyful  news  spread  through  the  im- 
patient army  that  at  last  they  were  to  meet  the  foe, 
none  was  so  eager  for  the  fray  as  Dan.  In  spite 
of  Scotty's  admonitions,  he  went  to  one  of  his  officers 
to  beg  permission  to  join  the  advance  the  next  morn- 
ing. The  request  was  promptly  refused,  and  the 
volunteer  bidden  with  scant  ceremony  to  go  back  to 
his  boat  and  mind  his  own  business.  But  Mr.  Mur- 
phy was  convinced  that  his  business  lay  with  the 
front  rank  of  the  advancing  column.  He  had  not 
been  trained  to  army  discipline  and  was  not  minded 
to  lose  the  glorious  chance  of  participating  in  a 


824          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

real  battle  for  such  a  trifling  consideration  as  one 
man's  opinion. 

So  in  the  grey  dawn  of  the  morning,  when  the 
troops  marched  out  over  sand  and  barren  rock, 
there  went  with  them  a  man  who  had  neither  the  uni- 
form nor  the  dogged  stride  of  the  rank  and  file. 
But  he  made  up  in  enthusiasm  what  he  lacked  in  mili- 
tary precision;  for,  having  appropriated  the  arms 
and  accoutrements  of  the  first  man  who  fell,  he  rushed 
to  the  front,  and  was  right  in  the  van  of  the  victori- 
ous charge  that  swept  the  enemy  from  their  rocky 
stronghold. 

Dan  Murphy  was  the  hero  of  the  Canadian  voy- 
ageurs  for  the  remainder  of  the  journey.  When  the 
six  months'  term  for  which  they  had  signed  had 
expired,  and  he  and  Scotty  resolved  to  go  on  to  the 
end,  there  were  many  who  remained  with  the  column 
because  the  former  chose  to  act  as  an  independent 
recruiting  officer.  If  he  was  going  to  Khartoum, 
then  they  would  follow,  for  where  Murphy  was  there 
must  surely  be  some  fun. 

But  the  end  of  the  journey  came  sooner  than  was 
expected.  A  little  above  Kirbekan  General  Bracken- 
bury  received  the  tragic  news  of  the  fall  of  Khar- 
toum and  the  martyred  Gordon's  death.  Just  a  few 
days  earlier,  just  a  little  more  haste,  and  the  gallant 


SECRET     OF     THE     NILE      325 

heart  that  had  looked  bravely  into  the  face  of  de- 
spair for  so  many  weary  weeks,  still  patient,  still  hop- 
ing, might  have  seen  the  answer  to  his  prayers !  But 
the  succors  were  too  late  by  less  than  a  week.  Gordon 
was  murdered,  Khartoum  was  fallen,  and  at  Huella 
the  baffled  column  received  orders  to  return. 

If  the  toil  of  descending  the  Nile  was  not  equal 
to  that  experienced  in  the  ascent,  the  skill  and  vig- 
ilance required  of  the  pilots  was  even  greater.  Only 
a  few  days'  journey  had  been  completed  when  the 
column  halted  at  the  head  of  a  long  series  of  cat- 
aracts. Here  the  Dongolese  boatmen  had  been  put 
to  their  utmost  strength  to  haul  up  the  boats  through 
the  boiling,  writhing  channel,  and  the  question  was, 
could  any  boat  go  down  it  and  live?  General  Brack- 
enbury  gave  orders  that  none  but  the  Canadians 
should  be  entrusted  with  the  descent;  so,  early  in 
the  morning,  the  voyageurs  walked  down  the  stream 
to  survey  it.  They  pronounced  the  channel  bad,  but 
not  impossible,  while  one  old  St.  Lawrence  pilot 
sniffed  contemptuously  and  declared  that  the  Lachine 
would  make  this  puddle  look  "  seek." 

But  the  Nile  cataract  was  bad  enough,  as  Scotty 
realised,  when  he  found  himself  among  the  first  called 
to  go  down.  Dan  was  his  bowman  and  the  stroke 
oar  was  a  hardy  old  Scotch  sergeant.  Upon  both 


326          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

of  these  he  could  rely  with  certainty.  Nevertheless, 
as  he  steered  out  into  the  middle  of  the  river,  he 
realised  that  they  had  good  need  of  all  their  courage 
and  resource.  On  an  overhanging  rock  above  him 
stood  the  commander  with  some  of  his  staff,  anxiously 
watching  the  experiment.  The  shore  was  lined  with 
soldiers,  as  though  they  had  come  to  witness  a  boat- 
race.  Scotty  had  a  fleeting  glimpse  of  them  as  he 
raced  past,  and  then  his  boat  was  caught  in  the 
swift  current  and  shot  forward  with  lightning  speed. 
The  men  bent  to  their  oars  with  all  the  might  of  their 
brawny  arms,  to  give  their  helmsman  more  power, 
Dan  stood  in  the  bow,  alert  and  tense,  his  paddle 
ready,  and  Scotty  held  the  tiller  in  an  iron  grip.  The 
channel  curved  sharply  to  right  and  left;  at  the 
quickest  turns  great  rocks  stood  in  mid-stream  over 
which  the  angry  waters  boiled  and  roared.  At  many 
points  an  instant's  hesitation  on  his  own  part,  Scotty 
well  knew,  or  a  second's  relaxation  of  Dan's  vigilance, 
would  hurl  boat  and  crew  to  destruction.  They  were 
in  it  now,  dashing  through  a  blinding  rain  of  spray, 
leaping,  turning,  dodging,  twisting,  as  though  the 
boat  were  a  living  creature  pursued. 

Down  they  shot  through  the  boiling  zig-zag  cur- 
rent, now  avoiding  great,  jagged  rocks  by  a  hair's- 
breadth,  now  bounding  like  a  deer  over  a  smooth 


SECRET    OF     THE    NILE      327 

incline,  now  plunging  into  a  seething  white  billow; 
and,  when  at  last  they  swept  round  into  the  quiet 
bay  at  the  foot  of  the  cataract,  Dan  leaped  up,  and 
waving  his  paddle  on  high  uttered  a  wild  war-whoop 
learned  long  ago  in  the  swamps  of  the  Oro.  There 
was  an  answering  cheer  from  the  group  of  men  wait- 
ing at  the  landing.  "  Well  done,  Big  Scalper !  " 
cried  the  foreman. 

A  young  naval  officer  who  had  just  ridden  down 
from  the  head  of  the  rapid  turned  quickly  at  the 
words. 

"What,  Big  Scalper,  is  that  you?"  he  cried  as 
the  pilots  stepped  from  the  boat.  "  How  is  it  you're 
not  hanged  yet  ?  " 

Scotty  glanced  up  and  encountered  a  laughing 
glance  from  the  speaker's  merry  eyes.  He  recognised 
the  young  man  whom  Dan  had  vainly  tried  to  befool, 
away  back  at  the  beginning  of  the  voyage.  He 
was  prevented  from  replying  by  a  word  from  the 
officer  in  command.  As  the  voyageurs  were  few  and 
the  boats  many  they  had  to  walk  back  to  the  head  of 
the  cataract  as  soon  as  one  descent  was  accomplished 
and  prepare  for  another.  Their  commander  was  bid- 
ding them  make  haste,  and,  when  Scotty  turned  to 
leave  the  landing,  the  young  man  had  disappeared. 
He  was  vaguely  disappointed.  There  was  something 


328          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

very  attractive  in  his  good-humoured  familiarity,  so 
different  from  the  manner  of  the  ordinary  under 
officers. 

When  the  long  day's  labour  was  over  and  the 
darkness  prevented  the  descent  of  any  more  boats, 
the  Canadians  received  orders  to  return  to  the  upper 
camp  to  be  in  readiness  for  the  morning's  work.  Dan 
had  been  required  for  steering  early  in  the  day,  and 
had  been  separated  from  his  friend,  so  Scotty  found 
himself  upon  the  rocky  path  leading  to  the  head  of 
the  cataract  quite  alone. 

Dan  had  promised  to  join  him,  but  when  Dan  was 
in  the  company  of  the  voyageurs  there  was  generally 
sufficient  cause  for  delay.  Scotty  walked  on  slowly, 
glad  to  be  alone  for  a  few  moments  after  the  tre- 
mendous toil  of  the  day;  the  desert  was  quiet,  and 
acted  upon  his  spirits  as  did  the  deep,  fragrant 
swamps  at  home. 

The  sun  had  set  and  the  desert,  which  had  glowed 
golden  in  the  blistering  sun  all  day,  now  lay  grey 
and  ghostly  in  the  moonlight.  Away  ahead  stood 
the  ruins  of  an  ancient  temple  overgrown  with  dusty 
mimosa  bushes.  The  whispering  Nile,  brown  and 
gleaming  in  the  daytime,  ran  swiftly  past,  touched 
to  silver  by  the  moon  that  hung  in  the  great  empty 
space  overhead.  The  breeze  from  the  north  was 


SECRET    OF    THE    NILE      329 

cool;  the  night  was  quiet  and  restful.  He  strolled 
along  easily,  looking  back  occasionally  for  signs  of 
his  comrades ;  a  solitary  figure  in  the  barren  desert. 

The  toil  over  rocks  and  rapids  of  the  last  few 
months,  though  it  had  hardened  his  physique  and 
left  him  in  superb  health,  had  played  havoc  with 
his  clothes;  and  he  was  so  disreputable  and  tattered 
a  figure,  that  he  smiled  to  himself,  as  he  pictured 
Granny's  distress  could  she  have  seen  him. 

He  reached  a  turn  in  the  rocky  path  and  stopped 
to  listen  for  sounds  of  those  who  were  to  follow. 
The  breeze  from  the  north  brought  faintly  the  music 
of  the  old  French  Canadian  song  that  had  so  often 
enlivened  alike  the  toil  of  the  shantymen  on  the 
Ottawa  and  the  pilots  on  the  Nile. 

"En  roulant,  ma  boule  roulant, 
En  roulant,  ma  boule." 

The  boys  were  coming,  then ;  he  seated  himself  upon 
a  rock  to  await  them.  The  sound  died  away  for  a 
moment,  only  the  dry  rustle  of  the  mimosa  bushes 
disturbed  the  silence. 

He  seemed  absolutely  alone  in  the  world,  until  from 
a  break  in  the  rocks  to  his  right  a  camel  emerged 
with  its  stately,  undulating  stride.  It  bore  an  officer 
presumably  riding  down  to  the  foot  of  the  cataract. 


330          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

The  long,  fantastic  shadow  moved  across  the  grey 
sand.  Scotty  could  hear  the  rider's  voice  urging 
the  animal  forward.  As  they  came  out  into  the  open, 
the  two  figures  were  silhouetted  against  the  pale  sky ; 
a  splendid  mark  for  a  prowling  Dervish,  he  reflected. 
As  if  in  answer  to  his  thought  there  came  the  sud- 
den crack  of  a  rifle  from  the  direction  of  the  ruined 
temple.  The  figure  of  the  rider  lurched  over,  and, 
with  a  leap,  the  animal  had  thrown  him  and  was  off 
desertward.  There  was  a  fiendish  yell  from  the  mi- 
mosa bushes.  Three  or  four  dark  forms  rose  like 
magic  from  their  shadows,  their  spears  glinting  in  the 
moonlight  as  they  leaped  forward.  The  wounded 
man  lay  between  his  assailants  and  Scotty,  some- 
what nearer  the  latter.  As  it  was  Scotty  reached 
him  first.  The  man  was  lying  on  the  sand.  He  had 
his  revolver  in  his  hand  and  was  striving  desperately 
to  raise  himself  into  a  position  to  shoot.  Scotty 
dragged  him  into  a  sheltering  nook  between  two 
ledges  of  rock,  snatched  the  weapon  from  his  hand, 
and  crouching  down  sent  a  bullet  spinning  out  to 
meet  the  advancing  rush.  The  Dervishes  halted ;  the 
revolver  spoke  again ;  there  was  a  howl  as  a  man  fell. 
Scotty  felt  a  moment's  inner  exultation  in  that  steady 
aim  he  had  never  lost  since  the  days  he  and  Dan 
shot  chipmunks  behind  the  schoolhouse.  But  the 


SECRET     OF     THE     NILE      331 

yell  had  been  answered  by  another  farther  from  the 
river;  three  more  glinting  spearheads  suddenly  ap- 
peared from  the  dark  expanse  beyond,  and  came 
hurtling  towards  him.  He  poured  the  remaining 
chambers  of  his  revolver  into  the  mad  charge;  but, 
when  the  last  was  gone,  the  enemy  were  still  leaping 
forward.  He  threw  down  the  weapon  and  looked 
about  swiftly.  The  wounded  man  had  a  sword  at 
his  side.  Scotty  grasped  it  and  the  same  instant 
the  yelling  savages  were  upon  him.  There  was  no 
use  trying  to  take  cover  now.  He  stood  erect  and 
struck  out  madly.  He  was  dimly  surprised  when  the 
first  man  went  down  before  him.  He  swung  his 
weapon  fiercely,  with  no  thought  of  aim ;  but  he  was 
as  agile  as  even  these  wild  sons  of  the  desert  and 
his  arm  had  the  strength  of  ten.  It  could  not  last 
long,  he  knew,  and  he  fought  with  the  energy  of 
despair.  There  was  a  strange  roaring  in  his  ears,  as 
though  he  were  in  the  midst  of  the  cataract  again, 
something  warm  was  streaming  down  his  face  and 
obscuring  his  vision;  he  struck  out  blindly,  des- 
perately. 

But  now  another  sound  arose,  even  above  the  roar- 
ing in  Scotty's  head,  the  sound  of  a  familiar  voice; 
a  shout  from  down  the  river.  Scotty's  heart  leaped ; 
he  uttered  a  strange,  weird  yell — "  Oro,  Oro,  woo- 


THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

hoo !  "  It  was  the  long,  fierce  battle-cry  of  Glenoro 
school.  If  Dan  were  in  Egypt  that  would  bring  him, 
'  he  knew! 

"  Oro !  Oro ! "  came  the  answer ;  and  like  a  sand- 
storm across  the  desert  came  the  company  of  voya- 
geurs,  Dan  at  their  head,  uttering  the  blood-curdling 
war-whoop  with  which  he  had  so  often  awakened  the 
echoes  of  the  Canadian  swamps. 

The  fierce-eyed  Soudanese  who  had  raised  his  spear 
to  hurl  at  his  opponent  hesitated.  He  must  have 
thought  that  all  General  Brackenbury's  army  was 
upon  him.  He  leaped  back  with  a  sharp  word  of 
command ;  one  more  yell  from  the  advancing  column, 
followed  by  the  crack  of  a  random  shot  decided  him ; 
the  dark  figures  took  to  their  heels,  and  in  the  magic 
way  known  only  to  the  desert-born,  had  melted  in 
a  moment  over  the  low  hills. 

Scotty's  head  was  spinning  wildly,  and  when  Dan 
flung  himself  upon  him  he  sank  unsteadily  upon  the 
ground. 

"  Hello,  Danny,"  he  tried  to  say,  with  his  usual 
calmness,  "  just  on  time." 

Dan  clutched  him  by  the  shoulders  and  shook  him 
violently;  his  voice  was  unsteady.  "  Be  jabers,  didn't 
I  hear  ye  bleatin'  like  a  stray  lamb,  half-a-mile  back. 
How  did  ye  happen  to  have  such  luck,  ye  beggar? 


SECRET     OF     THE     NILE      333 

Aw,  the  black-hearted  brutes  has  give  ye  a  bang, 
Scotty,  boy.  Hold  on  to  me  now,  old  man,  here, 
an'  we'll  fix  ye  up  in  no  time." 

"  The  other  fellow  needs  it  worse,"  said  Scotty, 
making  a  motion  towards  the  man  at  his  feet.  Some- 
one struck  a  light ;  the  voyageurs  raised  the  wounded 
man  gently.  His  eyes  opened. 

"  Are  you  much  hurt?  "  asked  one  of  the  rescuers, 
bending  over  him. 

Scotty  looked  down  at  him  and  was  conscious  of 
a  feeling  of  glad  surprise.  It  was  the  young  naval 
officer  who  had  spoken  to  him  that  morning. 

"  Not  much,"  he  gasped  pluckily.  "  It's  under 
my  arm  here.  You  were  just  in  the  nick  of  time, 
Canadian." 

Another  match  was  lit  to  enable  the  men  to  see 
the  rough  bandages  they  were  trying  to  adjust.  The 
light  flashed  up  into  Scotty's  face,  and  the  wounded 
man's  eyes  brightened. 

"  Why,  was  it  you,  Big  Scalper?  "  he  asked,  with 
a  faint  attempt  at  a  smile.  "  The  Devil's  not  so  bad 

as  he's  painted "  He  made  an  effort  to  hold  out 

his  hand,  but  before  Scotty  could  take  it  the  young 
man's  head  fell  back  and  he  had  fainted  in  Dan's 
arms. 

The  buzzing  in  Scotty's  head  grew  louder,  other 


334          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

sounds  became  dim  and  far  away.  He  was  vaguely 
conscious  that  the  boys  were  binding  up  his  head, 
hurting  him  most  unnecessarily  in  the  process,  and 
that  they  were  leading  him  away,  away,  through  the 
revolving  darkness,  over  an  interminable  desert. 

But  the  next  morning  saw  him  in  the  stern  of  his 
boat  ready  to  take  the  cataract  once  more.  His 
head  was  still  bandaged  and  felt  rather  light,  but 
he  did  his  day's  work  as  usual.  And  before  the  next 
evening  he  was  at  the  head  of  the  column,  far  down 
the  Nile,  without  knowing  even  the  name  of  the  man 
whose  life  he  had  saved. 

And  that  same  day  a  young  naval  officer,  lying 
in  a  hospital  boat  asked  anxiously  if  he  might  not 
see  the  Canadian  pilot,  known  as  Big  Scalper,  and 
was  informed  that  the  Indian  of  that  name  had  gone 
on  at  the  front  of  the  column,  but  that  he  would  see 
him  when  they  disbanded  at  Korti. 

But  when  the  voyageurs  drew  up  before  the  flag- 
staff to  receive  the  General's  farewell,  the  young 
officer  lay  tossing  in  delirium;  and  when  next  he 
saw  his  preserver  it  was  not  in  Egyptian  bondage, 
but  in  the  new  land  of  promise. 


XVI 

RE-VOYAGE 

"  For  dere's  no  place  lak  our  own  place,  don't  care  de  far 

you're  goin', 

Dat's  what  the  whole  worl's  sayin',  w'enever  dey  come  here, 
'Cos  we  got  de  fines'  contree,  an'  de  beeges'  reever  flowin', 
An'  le  bon  Dieu  sen'  de  sunshine  nearly  twelve  mont'  ev'ry 
year."  — WILLIAM  HENEY  DRUMMOND. 

>  surely  the  Israelites,  on  the  borders  of 
Canaan,  felt  no  more  joy  than  did  the  two 
voyageurs  when  they  first  sighted  the  green 
shores  of  Canada.  As  they  steamed  up  the  St.  Law- 
rence Dan's  delight  reached  the  dangerous  stage.  He 
was  dying  for  a  fight,  and  a  fight  he  must  have,  he 
declared,  And  for  this  purpose  he  danced  about 
the  deck,  brandishing  his  fists,  and  beseeching  every- 
one within  hearing  to  speak  up  and  say  that  Canady 
wasn't  jist  the  flower  garden  of  creation,  barrin'  ould 
Ireland.  Before  he  succeeded  in  getting  himself  into 
serious  trouble,  Scotty  wisely  put  the  wild  Irishman 
down  upon  the  deck  and  sat  on  him  until  the  first 
spasms  of  the  home-coming  ecstasy  were  over. 

But  when  the  boys  reached  the  little  railway  station 
a  few  miles  from  Glenoro,  and  saw  Hamish's  kind, 

335 


336          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

brown  eyes  and  old  Pat  Murphy's  red  face  beaming 
a  double  welcome,  there  were  no  noisy  demonstrations. 
For  as  they  drove  up  through  the  ever-changing 
panorama  of  hill  and  valley,  with  the  flash  of  the 
river  and  the  blue  gleam  of  lakes  peeping  through 
the  green,  Scotty  had  a  choking  lump  in  his  throat 
— and  even  Dan  was  silent.  For  they  were  home 
again,  and  Oro  was  vocal  with  the  joy  of  returning 
spring. 

The  pink-tinted  buds  were  everywhere  bursting  into 
green,  the  marsh  marigolds  lit  the  dark  borders  of 
the  swamp  with  their  little  golden  lamps,  the  he- 
paticas  and  trilliums  spangled  the  dun-coloured  car- 
pet of  the  woods ;  just  the  same,  Scotty  thought, 
as  in  the  happy  days  when  he  and  Isabel  scampered 
among  them.  The  air  was  deliciously  laden  with  the 
exhilarating  scents  of  the  young  green  earth,  the 
bluebirds  flashed  from  bough  to  bough  of  the  elm 
trees,  and  the  robins,  how  they  sang!  Dan  declared 
the  little  spalpeens  knew  he  was  home,  for  what  else 
would  make  them  bust  their  foolish  little  throats  wid 
shoutin'  ? 

His  quiet  mood  did  not  last  long.  The  Canadian 
air  was  getting  into  his  blood  again.  A  sudden 
whirr  and  flash,  where  a  host  of  red-winged  black- 
birds arose  in  a  cloud  from  the  road,  proved  too 


RE-VOYAGE  337 

much  for  him.  He  leaped  from  the  buggy,  yelling 
like  a  madman,  and  for  the  rest  of  the  journey  was 
quite  beyond  the  limits  of  reason.  He  sat  in  the 
vehicle  only  on  rare  occasions,  and  spent  his  time 
scrambling  over  fences,  tearing  into  the  woods  and 
back  again,  chasing  squirrels  and  whooping  like  an 
Indian,  until  his  father  privately  questioned  Scotty 
as  to  the  effect  of  the  Egyptian  sun  on  the  brain. 

Scotty  sat  beside  Hamish,  laughing  helplessly  at 
poor  old  Dan's  madness,  and  in  his  quieter  way  rev- 
elling just  as  much  in  all  the  dear  familiar  sights. 
He  was  feeling  how  good  it  was  to  be  a  son  of  the 
north  land,  to  live  in  this  garden  of  lake  and  river, 
forest  and  meadow,  and  see  it  come  to  life  afresh 
each  year,  and  as  they  climbed  a  hill,  and  he  stood 
up  in  the  old  buggy  to  catch  his  first  glimpse  of 
Lake  Oro  he  realised  solemnly  that,  though  he  might 
be  called  English,  Irish,  Scotch,  Indian,  Egyptian, 
what  not,  he  was  altogether  and  entirely  and  over- 
whelmingly Canadian. 

And  at  the  brow  of  the  hill  came  the  Murphy  home- 
stead, with  all  the  Murphys  far  and  near  assembled 
to  greet  the  returned  wanderer.  Scotty  and  Hamish 
had  intended  to  leave  Dan  at  his  home  and  hurry 
away,  but  when  the  hero  of  the  house  of  Murphy 
was  dropped  into  the  arms  of  the  excited  crowd,  they 


338          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

found  leave-taking  a  difficult  enterprise.  Irish  hos- 
pitality, especially  when  transplanted  to  the  land  of 
Canadian  plenty,  is  a  compelling  force. 

At  first  Scotty's  impatience  to  get  home  resisted 
all  invitations,  and  old  Pat  was  about  to  reluctantly 
allow  them  to  depart,  when  Mrs.  Murphy,  who  until 
now  had  been  weeping  loudly  on  Dan's  broad  shoul- 
der, oblivious  to  everything  but  his  return,  suddenly 
awoke  to  the  shameful  fact  that  someone  was  about 
to  leave  her  doors  without  stopping  to  eat.  She  issued 
no  further  invitation,  but  with  her  apron  still  to  her 
eyes  and  still  exclaiming  over  and  over  in  muffled 
sobs,  that  "  the  darlin'  had  come  back  to  his  mother," 
she  darted  into  the  road;  and  snatching  the  horses' 
bridle,  dragged  her  guests  through  the  gate  and  up 
to  the  door,  amid  the  applause  of  the  assembled  Flats. 

And  so  they  had  supper  in  the  Murphy  home  per- 
force, and  all  the  great  deeds  of  their  expedition  had 
to  be  recounted.  Scotty  told  how  Dan  had  disobeyed 
orders  and  run  away  at  the  battle  of  Kirbekan ;  only, 
like  a  true  Irishman,  he  had  run  to,  not  from  the 
fight.  But  when  his  friend  returned  the  compliment 
and  launched  into  an  account  of  the  midnight  skir- 
mish at  the  ruined  temple,  the  hero  of  that  event  arose 
hastily,  and  declared  they  must  be  going. 

There  was  much  for  Hamish  both  to  tell  and  hear 


RE-VOYAGE  339 

on  the  road,  so  the  afternoon  was  fading  into  even- 
ing when  at  last  they  reached  the  Scotch  Line.  They 
had  taken  a  detour  round  the  Glen,  for  Scotty  did 
not  want  to  be  delayed  by  more  friends.  They  passed 
the  Weaver's  clearing,  and  Haraish  declared  how 
Jimmie  and  Kirsty  were  such  an  agreeable  pair  as 
never  was,  for  indeed  the  two  lived  in  such  a  state 
of  connubial  felicity  as  was  a  wonder  to  all  the  neigh- 
bours. Scotty  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  little  path 
through  the  cedars,  the  path  where  he  and  Isabel 
had  walked  so  often  in  those  magic  days  succeeding 
Kirsty's  wedding.  And  there  was  the  boiling  spring 
by  the  roadside  where  they  had  so  often  played,  and 
the  pools  where  they  had  gathered  musk,  and  yonder 
in  the  fence-corner  they  had  built  their  first  house. 

And  then  there  came  a  turn  in  the  road  and  there 
it  was!  His  old  home!  It  was  just  the  same: 
the  old  garden  in  front  with  the  rose  bushes  turn- 
ing green,  and  the  Silver  Maple  putting  forth  its 
pink  buds  above  the  roof!  And  there  was  Granny 
at  the  door,  shading  her  eyes  with  her  hand;  and 
beside  her  Mary  Sandy,  Rory's  sister-in-law,  who 
was  now  her  help ;  and  Grandaddy,  who  had  been 
pretending  to  cut  wood  all  afternoon,  still  holding 
the  axe  in  his  hand ;  yes,  and  even  Old  Farquhar,  bob- 
bing about  as  excited  as  any! 


340          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

With  the  instinct  of  long  custom,  Scotty  jumped 
from  the  vehicle  to  open  the  gate,  but  his  trembling 
fingers  refused  to  pull  out  the  pin,  and  the  next  mo- 
ment he  had  cleared  the  bars  in  one  mighty  spring, 
,  leaving  Hamish,  helpless  with  laughter,  to  shift  for 
himself.  Before  the  gate  was  open  he  had  charged 
up  the  hill  like  a  whirlwind  and  caught  Granny  off 
her  feet. 

And  then  such  a  time  as  there  was  with  talking  and 
hand-shaking  and  laughter  and  tears,  for  even  Mary 
Sandy  took  to  crying  out  of  sympathy  with  her  mis- 
tress, and  Scotty  himself  had  some  work  to  keep  his 
eyes  dry. 

And  no  one  could  hear  a  word  anyone  else  said, 
for  as  the  long-absent  one  crossed  the  threshold,  Old 
Farquhar  burst  into  loud  and  joyous  song.  And  what 
could  do  justice  to  the  great  occasion  but  "  The 
Grave  of  Highland  Mary  "  ?  The  old  man's  voice  was 
strong  with  excitement,  and  he  drowned  both  the 
noise  of  joyful  greeting  and  the  din  of  the  barking 
dogs  as  he  shouted  triumphantly, — 

"  Then  bring  me  the  sigh  of  a  fond  lover's  bosom 
And  bring  me  the  tear  of  a  *ond  lover's  e'e, 
And   I'll  pour  them  a'  doon  on  thy  grave,  Highland  May- 
ay-re, 
For  the  sake  o'  thy  Bur-urns  who  sae  dearly  loved  thee ! " 


RE-VOYAGE  341 

When  the  excitement  had  slightly  subsided  they 
had  to  sit  down  and  partake  of  such  a  supper  as 
had  never  before  been  set  out  in  that  house;  for 
Granny  would  not  listen  to  such  foolish  nonsense 
as  that  they  had  eaten  at  Murphy's.  She  sat  beside 
her  boy,  never  touching  her  own  food,  but  heaping 
his  plate,  clapping  him  upon  the  back  and  showering 
upon  him  all  the  endearing  epithets  she  knew  in  a 
language  that  is  famous  for  them. 

Big  Malcolm  sat  close  to  him  on  the  other  side, 
his  old  warlike  spirit  aroused,  as  his  boy  told  his 
story.  Scotty  softened  the  hardships  for  his  grand- 
mother's ears  and  said  nothing  of  his  own  encounter 
in  the  desert.  He  was  graphically  describing  the 
manoeuvres  of  the  Highlanders  at  Kirbekan,  much  to 
his  grandfather's  delectation ;  when,  as  if  to  give 
point  to  his  narrative,  there  suddenly  arose  from 
the  direction  of  the  road  a  splendid  roar  of  pipes; 
and  behold  here  came  Rory  driving  up  the  lane  in  a 
wagon,  his  whole  family  aboard;  and  he  himself, 
forgetful  of  his  dignity  as  the  father  of  the  family, 
standing  up  in  the  wagon  and  blowing  up  a  tre- 
mendous pibroch  on  Fiddlin'  Archie's  Sandy's  bag- 
pipes ! 

Scotty  flung  out  of  doors  to  meet  him  and  had 
scarcely  time  for  a  greeting  when  they  sighted 


342         THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

Weaver  Jimmie  and  Kirsty  hurrying  up  the  path 
from  the  bush.  Then  a  shout  from  the  hill  behind 
the  barn  attracted  everyone's  attention,  and  Long 
Lauchie's  whole  household  appeared  trooping  down 
the  slope;  Long  Lauchie  himself  plodding  joyfully 
at  the  tail  of  the  procession,  full  of  bewildering 
prophecies  and  analogies,  in  which  there  was  some- 
thing about  Lake  Simcoe's  being  the  Red  Sea,  and 
the  Oa,  Mount  Pisgah. 

It  was  well  that  Mary  Sandy  merited  her  mis- 
tress's oft-repeated  declaration  that  she  was  "jist 
the  smartest,  tidiest  girl  in  the  Oa,  indeed."  The 
multitude  had  to  be  fed,  in  accordance  with  the  laws 
of  Canadian  hospitality,  which  alter  not,  no  matter 
what  the  circumstances  may  be,  and  without  Kirsty's 
and  Mary  Lauchie's  help  even  Mrs.  MacDonald's 
paragon  might  have  found  herself  inadequate. 

Big  Malcolm  and  his  wife  were  quite  helpless  with 
excess  of  happiness.  The  latter  moved  about  in  a 
happy  daze,  making  ineffectual  efforts  to  assist  her 
friends,  picking  up  articles  and  putting  them  down 
again  in  a  haphazard  fashion. 

At  last  Kirsty  declared  that  they  must  all  clear  out 
and  let  her  do  some  work.  Yes,  and  Mrs.  Malcolm 
was  to  go  too,  for  how  could  she  be  of  any  use  with 
a  big  gomeril  like  Scotty  clattering  after  her  every 


RE-VOYAGE  343 

step,  as  if  he  was  a  bairn,  and  mostly  with  Big 
Malcolm  and  Rory's  wee  Callum  trailing  behind.  It 
was  enough  to  put  a  body  fair  daft. 

Thus  banished,  Scotty  laughingly  followed  his 
grandmother  out  of  doors.  He  was  well  pleased,  for 
he  was  longing  to  get  a  word  with  her  alone.  He 
knew  that  her  tender  eyes  had  long  ago  read  his 
heart's  secret,  and  if  she  had  any  news  for  him  she 
would  surely  give  it  without  asking. 

There  was  a  new  stone  milk-house  a  few  yards  from 
the  door,  built  since  his  departure;  and  he  must 
needs  see  it,  Granny  said.  So  she  took  him  with  her 
when  she  went  for  a  jug  of  buttermilk  for  the  guests. 
And  when  he  had  admired  the  place  and  the  butter- 
milk had  been  procured,  they  stood  in  the  cool,  sweet 
dampness,  and  Granny  told  him  how  all  the  friends 
had  asked  for  him  so  often.  The  minister,  indeed, 
came  up  several  times  just  to  inquire  if  they  had  had 
a  letter,  and  Store  Thompson's  wife  had  said  that 
whenever  the  Captain  himself  came  to  the  Glen  he 
always  asked  for  him.  Then  she  went  to  the  farther 
end  of  the  little  chamber  and  commenced  a  diligent 
search  for  something  that  was  not  there,  and,  with 
her  back  turned  to  him,  remarked  with  elaborate 
carelessness  that  the  Captain's  family  were  expected 
at  the  Grange  any  day  now.  The  Captain  had  been 


THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

away  nearly  all  the  time  since  he  lost  the  election, 
he  had  been  that  disappointed,  poor  body.  They 
had  spent  the  last  winter  in  Toronto.  The  wee 
Isabel  hadn't  been  jist  very  well  all  winter,  Kirsty 
had  said,  and  the  aunt  had  wanted  to  take  her  to 
the  seashore,  but  she  had  said  that  nothing  but  the 
Oro  air  would  do  her  any  good,  and  Kirsty  was  ex- 
pecting her  some  of  these  days. 

Scotty  drew  a  deep  breath.  She  was  coming  back 
then !  She  would  be  at  the  Grange,  she  might  even 
come  to  Kirsty's!  And  then  Kirsty  herself  darted 
in  and  snatched  the  pitcher  of  buttermilk  from  Gran- 
ny's hands  and  disappeared  as  quickly.  Neither  of 
them  noticed  her,  for  Scotty  was  in  a  rosy  but  hope- 
less dream,  and  Granny  was  patting  him  lovingly 
upon  the  arm  in  expression  of  the  sympathy  she  dared 
not  speak.  There  was  silence  for  a  moment,  the  old 
woman  still  caressing  him  tenderly. 

"  Eh,  it  would  be  the  Lord  would  be  bringing  you 
back  to  me,  m'eudail  bheg,"  she  said  at  last.  "  He 
would  be  good  to  Malcolm  and  me  in  our  old  age, 
for  you  would  jist  be  our  Benjamin,  whatever.  And 
has  it  been  well  with  Granny's  boy  all  this  weary 
time  ?  "  she  added  in  a  whisper. 

Scotty  put  his  hands  upon  her  shoulders  and  looked 
long  into  her  loving  eyes. 


RE-VOYAGE 

"  Granny,"  he  whispered,  "  do  you  remember  the 
first  day  I  went  to  school,  and  how  I  came  through 
the  swamp  alone  on  the  way  home.  " 

"  Eh,  the  wee  man  it  was !  And  how  would  I  be 
forgetting,  indeed,  for  it  would  be  the  first  time  you 
would  be  leaving  me !  " 

"  And  do  you  remember  what  I  found  a  comfort 
then?  The  swamp  was  so  lonely  it  frightened  me, 
and  I  thought  it  must  be  like  the  valley  of  the  shadow 
of  death;  so  I  said  over  the  Shepherd's  Psalm,  be- 
cause you  had  taught  it  to  me  and  I  knew  it  must 
be  good,  and  I  wasn't  afraid  any  more.  And  now 
I've  been  away  from  you  again,  Granny,  in  the  valley 
of  the  shadow  of  death,  yes,  and  worse  than  death 
often,  but — the  rod  and  the  staff  were  always  with 
me." 

The  tears  were  running  down  the  old  wrinkled 
face,  happy  tears,  for  Granny  had  feared  often  for 
her  boy ;  not  so  much  the  temporal  ills ;  the  arrow 
that  flieth  by  day  was  not  to  her  so  dangerous  as 
the  "  secret  fear."  But  her  fears  had  been  happily 
disappointed,  he  had  had  the  great  Keeper  with  him, 
and  one  more  joy  was  added  to  her  deep  content. 

The  celebration  at  Big  Malcolm's  lasted  half 
the  night,  and  before  it  had  ended  Scotty  found  he 
had  yet  one  more  draught  to  drink  from  his  cup  of 


346          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

happiness.  The  assembly  was  sitting  round  him 
breathless  as  he  related  the  many  incidents  of  his 
journey,  when  Weaver  Jimmie,  who  was  sitting  in 
the  doorway  to  allow  his  feet  to  hang  in  the  greater 
freedom  of  outdoors,  suddenly  interrupted  with  an 
exclamation,  "  Losh  keep  us,  is  yon  the  Schoolmaster 
come  back?  "  Scotty  came  to  the  doorway  with  a 
spring  and  met  the  outstretched  hands  of  his  friend. 
Monteith  had  heard  the  boys  were  expected  and  had 
journeyed  all  the  way  from  Barbay,  where  he  now 
resided,  to  bid  his  pupil  welcome.  Scotty  was  speech- 
less over  this  last  greeting,  for  in  the  long  warm  hand- 
shake of  his  old  friend  there  was  not  the  smallest  hint 
of  a  past  estrangement. 


XVII 
THE    PROMISED    LAND 

Love  and  Hope  and  Truth  and  Duty 
Guide  the  upward  striving  soul, 
Still  evolving  higher  beauty 
As  the  ages  onward  roll. 

— AGNES   MAULE    MACHAR. 

THE  next  day  Scotty  found  that  he  was  not 
yet  through  with  his  lionising.  With  the 
morning  sun  up  came  Dan  from  the  Flats 
with  the  news  that  "  the  boys  "  were  to  meet  at  Store 
Thompson's  that  evening,  and  they  must  both  go 
down  and  show  themselves.  At  first  Scotty  was  for 
refusing,  but  his  grandfather  decided  for  him.  3ig 
Malcolm,  who  was  no  better  at  dissembling  than 
his  wife,  suddenly  remembered  that  he  had  urgent 
reasons  for  going  into  the  Glen  that  evening  and 
promised  that  he  would  bring  his  grandson  with  him. 
So  there  was  nothing  for  Scotty  to  do,  as  Mon- 
teith,  who  was  still  with  him,  explained,  but  to  be  a 
real  lion  and  roar  properly.  Granny  made  them  an 
early  tea  and,  the  schoolmaster  accompanying  them, 
they  drove  off  in  the  old  buckboard. 

347 


348          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

On  the  way  Big  Malcolm  regaled  the  two  exiles 
with  tales  of  the  great  events  that  had  transpired 
since  their  absence.  The  most  important  one  related 
to  Store  Thompson's  latest  achievement  in  the  philo- 
logical field.  This  time  he  had  routed  completely 
young  Mike  Murphy.  Mike  had  never  received  any- 
thing through  the  post  office  in  his  life,  but  never 
a  day  passed  but  he  poked  his  head  in  at  the  little 
wicket  and  demanded  in  a  loud  voice,  "  Anythin'  for 
Murphy  the  day  ?  "  Store  Thompson  had  endured 
the  youth's  uncouthness  with  his  usual  serenity,  but 
one  day  Mike  asked  twice  at  the  wicket.  That  was 
once  too  often,  and  Store  Thompson  fell  back  on  his 
reserve  forces.  "Murphy?"  he  queried.  "Young 
man,  ye're  jist  ambeeguous  like,  aye,  ye' re  jist  am- 
beeguous."  Mike  had  never  inquired  for  letters  since. 
He  retired  in  a  rage,  under  the  impression  that  Store 
Thompson  had  called  him  some  insulting  name,  but, 
like  many  another  brave  man,  overawed  by  the 
mystery  of  the  unknown.  Ever  since,  Store  Thomp- 
son had  been  free  from  his  tormentor  and  the  young 
man  was  known  between  the  Oa  and  the  Flats  as 
"  Ambiguous  Mike."  Big  Malcolm  chuckled  audibly 
and  jerked  the  lines  in  delight  over  the  remembrance 
of  his  old  friend's  victory. 

The  way  seemed  very  short  to  Scotty,  there  was 


THE     PROMISED     LAND        349 

so  much  of  interest  to  see.  Soon  they  left  the  High- 
lands and  began  to  descend  into  the  Glen,  and  he 
found  his  eyes  growing  misty  again  as  they  dwelt 
on  the  winding  white  road,  the  silver  curves  of  the 
river  between  the  faint  green  of  the  hills,  and  the 
cosy  homesteads  nestled  in  the  budding  orchards. 

The  place  was  so  little  changed  in  the  two  years 
he  could  almost  believe  he  had  never  left  it.  He 
noticed  only  one  radical  difference.  Pete  Nash's 
establishment  had  disappeared.  The  tavern  had  not 
been  able  to  withstand  the  united  progress  of  com- 
merce and  righteousness ;  Mr.  Cameron's  advent  had 
heralded  its  downfall,  and  the  toot  of  the  railway 
train  through  Oro  had  sounded  its  death  knell. 

Big  Malcolm  had  not  finished  dilating  upon  the 
blessing  its  departure  had  been  to  the  community, 
when  they  reached  the  post  office.  A  crowd  stood 
collected  about  it,  eager  but  quiet.  They  hid  their 
concern  in  the  true  rural  fashion  and  stood  leaning 
against  every  available  support  with  supreme  indif- 
ference, shoulders  high,  hands  in  pockets,  caps  on 
one  side.  Store  Thompson  was  more  ceremonious. 
Before  Scotty  could  alight,  out  he  came  with 
hands  outstretched  in  greeting.  He  had  prepared 
an  elaborate  speech  of  welcome,  adorned  with  all  the 
available  polysyllables  in  the  dictionary ;  but,  when 


350          THE     SILVERMAPLE 

he  saw  Scotty's  familiar  face,  his  eyes  shining  with 
the  joy  of  his  home-coming,  and  Big  Malcolm,  erect 
and  full  of  fire  as  though  he  had  suddenly  dropped 
twenty  years  of  his  life,  his  heart  got  the  better  of 
his  head  and  he  could  only  shake  the  voyageur's  hand 
again  and  again  and  say : 

"  Aye,  ye' re  home  again.  Aye,  ye've  jist  come 
home,  like ! " 

And  then  out  bustled  Store  Thompson's  wife,  who 
was  as  blithe  and  brisk  as  she  had  been  twenty  years 
before,  and  she  had  no  difficulty  in  kissing  Scotty 
this  time,  though  she  had  to  stand  on  tip-toe  to  do  it. 

And  at  last  the  crowd  flung  off  its  lethargy  and 
one  by  one  came  forward  in  greeting.  Dan  had 
already  arrived  and  was  resplendent  amid  the  whole 
population  of  the  Flats ;  and  not  the  Flats  only,  for 
such  a  cosmopolitan  crowd  had  not  been  seen  in  the 
Glen  since  the  old  days  of  the  fights.  There  were  all 
the  Murphys  and  the  Caldwells  and,  of  course,  every 
MacDonald  from  far  and  near.  And  Hash  Tucker 
had  brought  over  a  goodly  representation  of  the 
Tenth  to  do  honour  to  his  old  schoolmates.  Scotty 
had  got  through  only  half  the  hand  shakes  when 
the  minister  came  up  from  the  manse  to  welcome 
the  boys  and  tell  them  they  had  made  him  proud 
of  Canada. 


THE     PROMISED     LAND        351 

Scotty  found,  somewhat  to  the  dismay  of  his  ret- 
icent soul,  that  Dan  had  been  spreading  abroad  the 
story  of  his  gallant  rescue  of  an  English  officer 
against  overwhelming  odds,  and  the  ovation  he  re- 
ceived was  particularly  trying. 

"  It's  a  pity  you  couldn't  have  kept  your  long, 
Irish  tongue  still  for  a  day !  "  he  grumbled,  and  Dan 
laughed  and  thumped  him  soundly  upon  the  chest 
for  an  ungrateful  and  stony-hearted  old  Scotch- 
man. 

The  two  were  standing,  the  centre  of  a  breathless 
ring,  while  Dan,  with  true  Irish  fluency,  described 
the  fight  at  Kirbekan,  when  the  sound  of  rapidly 
approaching  wheels  partly  diverted  the  attention  of 
the  audience. 

"  Eh,  yon  must  be  the  Captain  an'  his  family  jist 
gettin'  home,"  said  Store  Thompson,  turning  away 
to  welcome  the  new  arrivals.  For,  since  the  de- 
parture of  the  tavern,  Store  Thompson  was  public 
host  in  the  Glen.  Scotty  heard  and  felt  his  heart 
leap  into  his  mouth.  Would  she  be  there? 

The  wheels  were  stopping.  "  That'll  be  his  son 
most  like,  the  young  man,"  he  heard  someone  say 
above  the  buzzing  in  his  ears.  "  He's  been  away  in 
the  wars." 

Captain  Herbert's  voice  came  next,  "  No,  thank 


352          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

you,  James,  not  to-night;  we  just  want  to  water 
the  horses.  But  what's  all  this?  You  haven't 
lapsed  into  the  old  warlike  days  in  my  absence,  I 
hope?" 

And  then  Scotty  shoved  Dan  aside  and  looked  up. 
Yes,  there  she  was,  and  not  at  all  pale  and  ill  as  his 
heart  had  feared,  but  smiling  and  flushed  like  a  wild 
rose.  And  her  eyes  were  looking  a  welcome  straight 
into  his,  over  the  heads  of  the  people ;  such  a  welcome 
as  not  all  the  love  of  his  own  kin  had  been  able  to 
give. 

And  the  next  instant  a  marvellous  thing  happened, 
a  thing  that  astounded  all  the  spectators  and  left 
them  amazed  and  gaping.  For  the  pale  young  man 
at  Captain  Herbert's  side  suddenly  leaped  to  his  feet 
as  though  he  had  gone  mad.  He  gave  a  shout, 
"  Big  Scalper!  "  and  the  same  moment  he  had  cleared 
the  carriage  wheels  and  several  people's  heads  and 
had  flung  himself  upon  Scotty  and  delivered  him 
a  blow  that  sent  him  staggering  back  against  the 
verandah.  And  instead  of  resenting  such  outrageous 
treatment,  as  any  right-minded  descendant  of  the 
Fighting  MacDonalds  should,  Scotty  submitted  very 
meekly.  In  a  laughing,  half-ashamed  manner  he 
allowed  himself  to  be  pounded  and  shaken,  and  when 
his  assailant  had  almost  wrung  his  hands  off,  even 


THE     PROMISED     LAND        353 

permitted  himself  to  be  dragged  up  to  the  carriage 
wheels. 

"  Father ! "  cried  the  young  man,  his  voice  high 
with  excitement,  "  it's  the  very  fellow  himself !  It's 
Big  Scalper ! " 

At  that  Dan  Murphy  uttered  a  yell  that  made  the 
topmost  pine  on  the  Oro  banks  ring. 

"  It's  the  English  spalpeen ! "  he  roared  to  the 
dumbfounded  crowd.  "  It's  the  cratur  Scotty  pulled 
out  o'  the  black  divils  in  Agypt.  Oh,  hooray ! " 

It  seemed  as  if  all  the  township  of  Oro  joined  him 
in  one  mighty  shout.  Some  said  afterwards  that 
even  Store  Thompson  cheered,  though  most  people 
believed  that  the  excitement  of  the  moment  gave  birth 
to  that  wild  rumour.  But  certain  it  is  that  an  equally 
wonderful  thing  happened,  for  at  the  sound  of  the 
uproar  the  minister  turned  back  from  the  manse  gate, 
and  when  he  was  made  aware  of  the  cause,  he  actually 
waved  his  hat  in  the  air  and  made  everyone  give 
three  more  cheers. 

And  such  a  prodigious  handshaking  ensued  that 
Scotty  was  almost  overcome.  Captain  Herbert  acted 
as  if  he  could  never  let  him  go ;  and  there  was  Store 
Thompson  and  the  minister  and  half  the  crowd  to 
shake  hands  with  again,  and  it  seemed  to  Scotty  that 
every  second  man  was  the  young  Egyptian  officer, 


354,          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

and  he  found  to  his  amusement  that  even  that  ab- 
surd Dan  was  greeting  him  as  though  they  had  not 
met  for  years ! 

But  he  was  only  half -conscious  of  it  all,  only  half 
realised  what  it  meant  even  when  Miss  Herbert  took 
both  his  hands  in  hers  and  whispered  softly :  "  God 
bless  you,  my  boy."  For  he  could  see  nothing  but 
Isabel's  face  and  her  blue  eyes  swimming  in  happy 
tears,  and  felt  only  her  clinging  hands  as  she  whis- 
pered brokenly :  "  Oh,  Scotty,  isn't  it  wonderful, 
wonderful?  "  And  Scotty  knew  that  even  she  did 
not  quite  realise  just  how  wonderful  it  was. 

Then,  amid  all  the  expressions  of  good  will,  Big 
Malcolm  stepped  forward  and  held  out  his  hand  to 
Captain  Herbert.  It  was  grasped  warmly  and  the 
old  man  felt,  with  a  great  uplifting  of  his  spirit,  that 
his  last  forgiveness  was  accomplished  and  his  last 
feud  buried. 

It  was  very  late  that  night  when  the  company  broke 
up  and  Scotty  found  himself  at  home  once  more. 
Monteith  had  returned  with  him,  and  as  he  took 
his  leave  the  young  man  accompanied  him  to  the 
gate. 

"  I  wanted  a  chance  to  tell  you,  before  I  go,"  he 
said,  as  they  paused  in  the  moonlight,  "  that  you 
were  right,  after  all,  Ralph." 


THE     PROMISED     LAND       355 

"In  giving  up?"  asked  Scotty  eagerly.  "  Is 
it  because  of  what  you  saw  this  afternoon?  " 

"  No ;  the  reward  of  a  right  act  doesn't  always 
come  so  suddenly ;  but  because  I  have  learned  some- 
thing since  you  went  away,  something  that  your 
grandmother  taught  me  up  there  under  the  Silver 
Maple.  I  know  now  that  when  a  man  has  once  real- 
ised what  the  Great  Sacrifice  means  he  cannot  choose 
his  own  way." 

And  Scotty  went  up  to  his  old  bed  in  the  loft  and 
lay  listening  to  the  branches  of  the  Silver  Maple 
softly  caressing  the  roof,  unable  to  sleep  for  joy  and 
thankfulness. 

The  days  that  followed  were  very  busy  ones. 
Scotty  was  often  at  the  Grange;  not  altogether 
because  inclination  turned  his  feet  thither,  but  be- 
cause there  was  much  business  to  settle.  Lieutenant 
Herbert  wanted  to  return  soon  to  England,  and  he 
would  not  leave  until  his  new  friend  had  received  due 
restitution  and  more.  Scotty  wanted  nothing;  the 
look  in  Isabel's  eyes  was  enough,  but  Harold  would 
not  listen.  No,  he  must  have  the  Grange  and  all 
that  pertained  to  it,  he  declared ;  for  the  Captain  and 
his  sister  had  long  thought  of  going  back  to  England 
to  end  their  days.  "  So,"  he  concluded,  "  when  you 
are  through  that  college  course,  which  it  appears  you 


356          THE     SILVER     MAPLE 

must  take,  you  and  Bluebell  can  settle  down  here  to 
farming ;  and  good  luck  go  with  you,  because  I  don't 
envy  you  your  lot ! " 

But  Scotty  and  Isabel  cared  very  little  whether 
they  were  envied  or  not.  Their  own  happiness  was 
sufficient. 

And  so  Ralph  Stanwell  came  into  his  inheritance  at 
last,  and  by  the  right  road,  the  road  of  truth  and 
equity,  which,  though  it  may  often  descend  by  the 
way  of  the  cross,  is  sure  and  straight  and  leadeth 
unto  life  eternal. 

•  •  •  •  • 

The  day  before  he  left  to  take  up  his  studies  in 
the  city,  Scotty  went  down  to  the  Grange  and  brought 
Isabel  up,  ostensibly  to  spend  the  day  with  Kirsty, 
but  really  because  they  wanted  to  say  farewell  among 
their  old  haunts.  The  girl  had  spent  the  afternoon 
at  Big  Malcolm's  and  as  evening  fell  and  Scotty 
prepared  to  take  her  home,  they  went  round  to  the 
side  of  the  house  and  sat  for  a  few  moments  under 
the  Silver  Maple.  Lake  Oro  was  a  sea  of  gems 
flashing  between  the  dusky  points  of  the  fir  trees. 
The  hilltops  were  flushed  with  rose,  the  valleys  steeped 
in  purple,  and  the  vesper  sparrows  filled  the  golden 
twilight  with  their  music. 

"  Scotty,"    said   the    girl   softly,    "  I've   been   re- 


THE     PROMISED     LAND        357 

minded  all  day  of  the  psalm  Granny  Malcolm  taught 
us  here —  *  Thou  hast  beset  me  behind  and  before 
and  hast  laid  Thine  Hand  upon  me ! ' : 

And  Scotty,  whose  mind  held  the  vivid  remem- 
brance of  a  great  temptation,  to  which  he  had  almost 
yielded  and  from  which  he  had  been  saved  that  won- 
derful night  in  the  wilderness,  added :  "  '  Such  knowl- 
edge is  too  wonderful  for  me.  It  is  high.  I  cannot 
attain  unto  it.' ' 

And  a  little  breeze,  dancing  up  from  the  golden 
bosom  of  Lake  Oro,  tossed  the  green  canopy  above 
their  heads  and  showed  that  every  dark  emerald  leaf 
had  its  silver  lining. 


THE     END 


uc  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  UBRARVFAaur. 


A    000128205     2 


